Side Effect
by Wicked R
Summary: post an AU “Invisible Thread”, where Sylar is not made to assume the form of Nathan, but held captive. Pairing: eventual Sylair with a brief Syelle interlude.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Side Effect  
Disclaimers: I don't own any supernatural powers or anything else to do with Heroes.  
Genre: hurt/comfort, romance, **classical sickfic** for the sake of it.

Rating: nothing you should hide from.  
Summary/Set: post an AU "Invisible Thread", where Sylar is not made to assume the form of Nathan, but held captive.

Pairing: eventual **Sylair**.

**Note: inspired by queenoftheoutlands' Exposed.** Thank you for reminding me that writing and reimagining scenarios is fun!

Claire followed the man she'd always regard as her father down the stairs into the underground facility. Here they were, in the newly designed labyrinth of laboratories connecting to the cells containing some of the most interestingly evolved and dangerous people on the planet. The place wasn't Odessa, Texas, but it wasn't all that far away either.

The president's new Company built its secret containment facility near Albany, Texas, where Noah located a site suitable for hiding the deceptively run down looking building behind a row of factory outlets and warehouses.

Their footsteps panged over the voice of the distant humming of electricity making sure the prisoners stayed where they were and the smell was reminiscent of that in a hospital.

Noah keyed in the security code to open the door leading to the corridor in the research unit with a strong sense of deja vu. Primatech Paper might've been wiped out of existence and the government was not hunting down anyone with powers anymore, but the most dangerous of them still had to be kept under close control and what place could've been more suitable, than a replica of the old facility.

Noah Bennett glanced at his daughter, worried at how she would react. No matter how indestructible she was and how much she's been through, technically she was not quite an adult just yet. He had opposed as much as he could to Claire taking up a job at the Company instead of going to university, but eventually had to give in after both her and Angela insisted, having become ever more interested in her granddaughter ever since Nathan passed away.

"Why night shift?" Noah shook his head, even more dischuffed with the nature of the job Claire took, than if it would've been something else.

"Don't worry dad," Claire gave him an encouraging smile, "you know I discovered I don't need as much sleep as others do, quick regeneration and all that...I want something to pass the time."

Noah nodded, acknowledging her wishes, but not agreeing. "Well, you do your round once, then it's just watching them on the cameras. Let's get a run over-Cell1, male, Eric Doyle, you know all about his abilities. Cell2, male, Baron Samedi, impenetrable skin. Cell3, female, Michaela Geraldi, energy absorption. Cell4, female, Constance Blake, command of the dead. Cell5, female, Juliana Harmon, defying gravity. Cell6, well, that's cell 6..." Noah watched his daughter intently, introductions were not neccessary.

Claire had not been all that delighted when she found out Sylar was to be kept alive. It was the president's decision that nobody with special abilities would be hunted down without good cause, and that's what Angela, Peter, Claire and Noah were trying to convince him of in the first place. But it came with a price. The president also decided that no one was to be executed either.

Noah wasn't entirely certain the serial killer wasn't the reason Claire wanted this job-to see him secured away safely every day.

The blonde approached the secure glass with Sylar on the other side. She had prepared herself in mind for this moment, ever since she decided she would get herself employed by the company. She was ready for his quips, several answers already made up in her head, ready to toughen up and feel nothing when normally it was only the serial killer that induced palpable fear in her.

All that preparation however, deemed unnecessary as Sylar did not seem to notice her. Certainly, most of the prisoners were either heavily sedated, or staring into the nothingness impassive as she had seen exactly with the occupants of the previous cells, but she had somehow expected more from Sylar.

He was lying motionless in front of his tiny toilet with ivs connected to both his hands. Of course. Nobody would want to take chances. Claire gave a little sigh, then turned away, feeling somewhat relieved at the sight, but Noah stopped her, not at all relaxed himself. "I don't know whether we can believe he's affected by the drugs. Not that much."

"What makes you say that?"

"Didn't he escape before when he was supposed to be under sedation? Use his powers through the walls? We have learned the lesson, we're giving him a lot more of the new inhibiting formula, than the others. It works like a dream, this place is unquestionably boring ever since we first used it on someone. None of them can as much as lift a finger without being allowed to. But I'm never sure about him, I'll never be."

"It's understandable," gave Claire idly, watching as Sylar hands moved to cradle his stomach. What was that about not raising a finger? Oh, it must've been figure of speech. "Any chance you could give him more of that inhibiting formula? You know, just to be safe."

Noah shook his head, "apparently not. There are normally adverse effects, most patients had some of them, such as dizziness, irregular breathing, fevers, nausea, vomiting, acute stomach pains. Sylar spends most of his time kneeling next to that lav, throwing up and in between he's just lying there exhausted. All in all, I'm not certain though. He'd simulated dying on us before during tests a couple of years ago. I think he's trying to convince us he's weak till we are not as careful with him as before...Claire!!! What on earth are you doing!!" He jumped to his adoptive daughter, punching in the security code on Sylar's door.

Not expecting such a move, he had been a fraction too late and could only pull his gun as protection as Claire entered the small room Sylar was in. "What's this supposed to mean!?!" He whispered, hoping the captive indeed was oblivious to the world around him.

"You were wondering if he's leading you on, if he really is unwell. I believe I can tell you if it's a trick or not."

"How?"

"I can feel him, dad. To a certain extent I can feel him through the power he took from me. We are connected as long as we are. I have never tested it before, but somehow I'm quite sure that I'd be able to tell if he's regenerating works."

"Claire..." Sylar's unused, feeble voice distracted them, "Claire, there's no place I'd rather be, than here with you. I knew you'd come one day..." He tried to give his best, nonchalant smile, grabbing the rim of the toilet to try to sit up for the redoubtable visitor. "I told you I could show you that you were all monsters," he pointed towards the cannules in his veins, especially that Claire was now squatting down next to him to do who knows what. Not that he could oppose or anything, but at least nobody could accuse him of not biting back at least with his tongue. "I thought your hobby was to try killing me, not torture."

Not minding Sylar one bit, she reached out to lift the originally white, but now rather stained pajama top up they've been keeping the prisoners in, so that she can touch his stomach.

The killer's brows knit together slightly, the drug induced haze making his brain functions a little slow. If he would've had to admit, it was, that he had no idea what the Bennett girl was up to.

"He...has stomach cramps, dad. Very bad stomach cramps," Claire established a little surprised herself not only by her findings, but by how their common ability made her so in tune with everything that happened inside Sylar's body. Any more of this, and she'd be in pain herself.

With that, she stood and before Sylar could figure out whether the new developments were ultimately good or bad for him, Noah ushered his daughter out the door. Sylar was suffering like he should, still, chances were never to be taken with the world's most dangerous man.

tbc


	2. Eyelet

Chapter 2: Eyelet

As predicted by her father, Claire's night shifts had been more boring than anything else. There was a relatively minute amount of prisoners to watch, mere eighteen people in total and none of them looked like they were going anywhere. The Company even made a few of their agents redundant as there was no evidence of anybody else threatening out there with abilities who they would've needed to hunt down.

Resources were much focused on the area of research more than ever, with separate departments under the instruction of Dr. Mohinder Suresh, dealing with trying to recreate powers, as well as for the "cure" for them and a little unit focusing on the wellbeing of the whole population and making sure what Peter saw in the future does not happen.

At night though, there were not many employees in the building, bar for security and the head of research, who preferred to work at this time, when there were no interruptions and he could use his own special powers freely, leaving Claire to whatever she chose to do up in the control room.

And what she chose to do, was watching old security camera tapes, namely fast forwarding every second that has been recorded on the watchmaker since he was brought to the facility. Whether she was as obsessed with the man who took her ability as the killer had been with her before, she only contemplated for a second. There wasn't much to think about as she realized herself somewhere that she was maybe taking the scrutinizing Sylar to the extremes. But if there was anything suspicious and indicating a possible plan of the serial killers that she could find on the tapes, she would detect it and deal with it before it got out of hand. Her preoccupation could've sounded alarming to some as far as her mental health was concerned, for her, it was well founded caution.

She did end up a bit disgusted with herself however when going through and fast forwarding endless hours of tape with Sylar sick, most often physically, then passing out from the effort over and over again. She soon had to see that whatever suspicious sign she was looking for, it wasn't on the recorded material. She idly ran through another tape, then took it out the player with shaking fingers. Something wasn't right with what she was doing, something wasn't right with what she was feeling.

She closed her eyes and paused for a long moment to sort out and recognize her own, hidden thoughts. There was a part of her that was rejoicing in her arch enemy's suffering, that was for sure, a part that urged her to watch more, enjoy it more. "_Before the night is over, I'm going to prove to you, one by one, that you're all monsters, exactly like me." _Sylar's voice echoed in her mind. What she was feeling might be understandable, but it was so wrong. If she wasn't like him, why can't she stop herself?

She glanced up at the monitors. Most of the prisoners were sleeping as they should've been, with Daniel McKay, the evolved human in cell 11 hitting his head into the wall repeatedly as usual. Sylar lying far away from his bed, his body wrecked with dry heaves even when unconscious. Nothing unusual, so much so it was hard to say whether it was a recording, or it was happening there and then. If somebody replaced the live feed with old footage, nobody'd notice.

Claire stood up from her desk determined and marched down to the cells to find Sylar exactly the same bad shape she saw him on screen a minute ago. Nothing was amiss, and yet something told her, compelled her to go inside.

Not wanting to disobey company policy and risk being told to go away and never come back, the young woman ordered a couple of the guards to go with her and cover her. She couldn't say she was much concerned about these safety rules however and stepped to the captive without wavering. He looked more undead, than alive, she determined a little diverted, but his quivering bottom lip, dripping sweat and elaborate, difficult breathing gave him away.

This time, his eyes didn't flutter open till Claire's palm was already firmly placed on the upper part of his stomach, but even than they were nothing, but cloudy.

"The truth is..." He tried, "ugly, Claire, don't you think so?" He managed, panting, obviously a lot less in control than he would've wanted to be.

"Making people's own private freak show public always is."

"Only this isn't to do with your own private freak show, is it, Claire? It's to do with monsters." You could see he was struggling to as much as maintain eye contact.

The still teen something didn't need his confirmation on his well being. His muscles rippled under her touch, his insides radiating a continuant pain. Claire winced involuntarily and removed her hand, as if startled, "you prefer spanking? Nothing's inevitable, so I think it could be arranged." She wanted to make sure he understood her, that out of principle, she'd refuse to be associated to be called a monster in any way, that even though on impulse she would've wished nothing more than to hurt him the way he hurt her or at least gladly take the opportunity not to care, she had to retain her hero integrity by not being like him. She placed her palm lightly on his upper arm instead, making him blink at her hazily once more. "There's one thing you want from me that you'll never have. And that is to prove to me we're all monsters," she said unwaveringly.

It was only on her way to Mohinder that she realized her voice softened by the last sentence. She kept her ground, and yet she reassured him as a by product that she will try to do something about the torture his captors put him through.

tbc


	3. Bailiwick

Chapter 3: Bailiwick

Claire hesitated outside the lab. As far as she was concerned, she was entitled to know everything about her once tormentor, what's more, after what she's been through, she felt she should have the right to at least have a say about what happens to Sylar. Angela and her father still treated her like a child to a great extent though and with Mohinder she didn't know where she stood. She didn't know him all that well, what's more, she had been wary around him, like many of his co-workers. Nobody really trusted the scientist who acquired his abilities in a completely different way to the others. Were they all defined by their powers? She mused, as she entered.

The head of research only acknowledged her presence with a glance and did not give her any more attention, not even when she stepped up to him and spoke. "Are there any experiments on the go with Sylar, or his blood?"

"There's nothing I don't know about him that could be of use," Mohinder said, without taking his eyes off the computations on his screen.

"How much of the inhibiting formula does he get?"

"Enough," the scientist muttered, grimacing in trying to keep his concentration and thought process undivided.

Claire rolled her eyes. She could do with a little more being taken into account. By everyone. "I understand it was enough for you to think you temporarily made him into a quiet bittie bunny, but how much, I mean, exactly?"

Mohinder blew the air out forcibly, giving in to the fact he lost his train of thought, "where does it come from, this insistence? I can assure you, this is not your fight anymore, and if it's comfort you're looking for, I'd predict you'll be able to enjoy the glimmer of the life you once knew without any further interruptions from this powerful force, that baffles us all, evolution."

"Well, thank you. That sounds...err, reassuring? Grim? Grand? Uhm, but you know, it's beside the point. Prisoner 06's dehydrated, has severe spasmodic abdominal pains with a raised body temperature, a rapid heart beat and low blood pressure. Now what I'd like to know is if the drugs he's getting are part of some organized punishment scheme or just mere side effects of vitally important research!"

The man of science leaned back, clearly shaken out of his shell. "Temperature? Heart beat? I'm not aware..." He narrowed his eyes, "how could you know?"

"We still share an ability, which makes it a special bond, if you wanna call it that. I know with utter certainty."

If possible at all, Mohinder got even more curious and stood up to take a better look on her, "you don't suffer through his pain, do you?"

"Only if I'd be in physical contact."

"Oh. Well then..." Mohinder unconsciously inched back towards his computer, starting to lose interest a little. "I'm sure Mr. Sylar is well aware of what demands evolution requests for singularity."

"So it is intentional. The pain."

The man shrugged, "perhaps. We have better things to contend with than measuring Sylar's vitals."

"In that case I have to ask you to come down with me and calculate a lower doze for him that'd make him more comfortable," Claire said, unrelenting. She couldn't let any emotion filter in where there was only a moral question.

Mohinder frowned, not sure what to think. The human psyche was more of life's mysteries than evolution will ever be. First of all, he did not know that the killer was so badly affected, or whether if he'd care if he did, but most importantly, the blond standing in front of him so decisively unbalanced him. "Why?"

"Because what it's been done to him is exceptionally cruel, wicked and disgustingly inhuman. It horrifies me to think that we are on the same level as a serial killer, that we do to him similar things to what we wanted us protected from when he was attacking us."

"So Claire Bennett's very innate nature shows what?" Mohinder asked to see more clearly, "pity? Charity? Meaning? Compassion even?"

"Just what's right Dr. Suresh, and you know it."

"Well, if that's not the the glowing light of the new dawn..." Mohinder muttered as he followed the girl to the cells, not knowing himself how much percentage of what he said was belief, and how much was sarcasm.

tbc


	4. Obligation

Chapter 4: Obligation

A few nights later on Claire's duty

Right after her father left the building, Claire headed down to the basement. It was one thing suffering her father's weighing up looks on the matter and Angela's ire for having mingled into her affairs, but the young woman wanted to check on her pet torturer and serial killer's condition herself. Only Peter had given his approval for her taking up an interest in Sylar health, but even with him she could see that he had trouble keeping his emotions under check to the detriment of morals. Before, nobody really knew the extent of the killer's sufferings, and it was perfectly fine that way, as far as the younger Petrelli was concerned.

The blond couldn't live her life that way. She had things to prove, and mostly to herself. All the people she looked up to during her younger years, disappointed her in some way. Her father, Peter, Nathan, even West Rosen. There was one important person left in her life she didn't want to be letdown by and that was herself. She had standards and she would live up to them. What she knew is who she was. And who she was, was special, and in a different way than the obvious.

Beaconing over to a couple of guards to follow her, who were not surprised by her actions having seen her on previous nights, Claire strolled into Sylar's cell apparently as relaxed and airy, as if she would've been taking a walk on an peaceful, refreshing morning beach instead.

She found the serial killer on his bed this time, her presence prompting him to sit up, toss his feet to the ground and give her the lookover that measured her up. "Would you like some thanks from me?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes and staring straight into hers.

"You took away my pain, I took away yours," Claire waved airily, "I thought you might like the poetic connotations of such a turn of events," she commented, "or the irony in how I feel your pain, but not in my own body."

"Not quite."

"Oh, how could I forget? You're a fan of torture. Perhaps even when you're on the receiving end."

"No. You've not quite. Taken it away. The pain, little Claire. Perhaps you're still to acquire any power that forces people do things your way? Some useful active power."

Claire dilated her pupils mockingly, "wanting to get them to lower your doze more, how cheap would that be Sylar? I'd like something more intriguing from you."

"For your entertainment? You've provided that yourself in the example of the cosmic joke God left behind. You made a choice Claire, you thought it was good, but was it what you really needed?"

"What I really need is to kill you," Claire hissed, knowingly taking the bait, "but what's the fun in it if there's no hunt?"

Sylar laughed, "I love that evil streak of yours," his supporting fingertips leaving the edge of this bed as he stood up for the chance of perspective in the conversation. He had to get to his full hight, cause he really didn't like this role reversal where the blond pulled any of the shots. "You and me, are so alike, aren't we? Wonderful abilities, own codes, heritage, looks? We're not most people, you know what I mean?"

"Don't kid yourself on. There must be thousands of individuals with abilities on the planet by now."

The killer paled a little, momentarily considering if he should grab for the headboard, but then decided to continue. If he could carry on interacting her when he didn't even have her ability yet and she stabbed him just before he'd taken her power, he certainly could now. "How many of those know how to use their powers? Properly or at all? Or realize they had them?"

"Uh, and that's the part I don't really care about. You underrate normalcy, consumer comforts, tv brainwash, an innocent kiss..."

"When did I say I'd underrate a good fuck?" "

"It's not what I came for, futile conversations."

"But you did come for a little touching," he taunted her, having figured out that she could tell how he was feeling if she was allowed bodily contact. It was easy as it was reciprocal. Claire might not have been under any drugs to physically weaken her, but even though his overpowering convulsions, he did sense her feelings last time they touched for the moment, her resentment of the world, her anger against everything that didn't make sense or fit, and her determination to fight it and figure it all out.

Claire rolled her eyes. It had surely been easier to deal with a half delirious Sylar. But she had some duties for the company. Judging by his behavior, her enemy did not need more of her mercy. However, in that case the opposite might be true, a situation her father feared all along. That Sylar was too well, too strong and that he could even maybe use some of his powers when not under heavy drug influence. That was one thing she had to check, no matter what.

She stepped to him right up hastily and raised her hand. He shrunk back a little from her touch, reflexes still sluggish as her abrupt move surprised him. Her finding out that he'd put up a brave face and was barely able to stand was inevitable. He stood still for her second, frustrated when she made a more slower attempt to reach him this time. He hated being at their mercy and knew he had to gain from the present situation to be at all comfortable in his skin. If he could make her satisfyingly discomfited and embarrassed when touching him, it was half the winnings.

The serial killer was eternally grateful he'd previously tucked his shirt into his pants and that he tied the laces on his pants tight too. The girl had to touch skin, and surely not extremities either, so much he'd figured. Therefore he could just watch smugly as Claire winced when tugging the shirt didn't work and she had to resort to getting hold of the top of his trousers. Will she or will she not notice the offensive bulk in the front of his pants, a reaction that her closeness caused.

She wasn't sure what to make of his flinching away earlier, but she wasn't going to contemplate it. She'd rather get this over with as soon as possible. The short blond gave the laces a definite yank, not caring how much they pulled and pressed into the anti hero's otherwise well muscled abdomen as she finally managed to get his top clothing item free.

Sylar didn't anticipate his body giving up on him again, but Claire's rough handling of his midsection aggravated those cramps he had some trouble keeping under control anyway. The superhuman college student's fingertips barely brushed his dark, curled hairs around his bellybutton, and she was already overwhelmed with two strong events. First of all, he grabbed for one of her shoulders for support as he bent over, his knees week, and secondly and most overpoweringly, her fingers transmitted to her brain what she felt Sylar was experiencing.

"Whoa!" She yelped under both the pressure and the realization of how wrong she was suspecting he was in control.

The tall man sagged onto her a little bit more. The time of pretenses was clearly over and there was no point to it. The young woman had to gather her strength not to fall over. "Jesus, Sylar, what's the matter? Not having murdered anybody lately dims your mind? What's your point?"

"I'm still spry enough for someone who died several times. And I don't run from a fight," he managed, reminding her of his greatest card against her ever.

"All right, you need to lie down, now," she disregarded the killer's words and helped him over to the bed.

He sat down slowly and gingerly, then sagged to his side, pulling his legs up. All further communication was severed by him closing his eyes.

Claire sighed dejectedly and tossed the covers at him in a heap that'd previously fallen onto the floor. "Well, that was...you always so lucky with your prison guards?" She muttered, not expecting an answer. She so wasn't looking forward to another conversation with Mohinder, and the rest of the company's main bosses.

Tbc


	5. Tepid

Chapter 5: Tepid

Weeks later

Claire's normal security check round at the beginning of her shift always ended with a routine visit into room 06 these days. And that at the orders of no other than the company's chair person herself, Angela. Since Sylar's anti formula doze ended up reduced twice after all, as minuscule as the reduction was, the board decided it was imperative that they could be confident every day that his abilities didn't go out of the facilities' control. To ensure this, Claire was required to reevaluate his physical condition regularly, using her special ability.

For certain, a simple task like that she could achieve in no more than a couple of minutes, but over time her and Sylar kinda developed their own little routine regarding the daily encounter. The existence of such personal modus operandi put both of them a little more at ease with the situation. Claire didn't have to put much thought into who she was seeing, Sylar didn't have to be told to do anything and remind himself he was the one in a subordinate status.

He wouldn't lie down for Mohinder or anyone's experiment, he made it as hard as it was mere humanly possible for anyone to give him the formula shots, and he didn't have to give in to Claire either. Knowing the exact time she arrived every night, he lay on his back his bed voluntarily as if by chance, his shirt undone casually and ready.

The blond strolled into the room in a yellow mini dress, yet another sexy outfit he'd never seen her wearing before. It left him wondering if she was dressing for him, if it had given her a boost of confidence to look her best, or if she was taunting him.

Could've been the latter, Sylar contemplated when Claire leaned over him without a word as usual, giving him a good view at her décolletage. Of course such young girls could be totally unaware of what effect their half dressed appearance could have on a grown man growing more erect by the second.

Claire didn't seem happy with the results of her insight into the killer's body as she sat by next to him and continued with a more thorough examination, sliding her palm higher, than lower on his stomach. Her face was blank, focused and professional, never giving away any sign of her ever concentrating on anything else than was her job, or what she's seen as her personal duty.

Just like a number of times before, but not always as it sometimes wasn't required, the small woman picked up the towel that was next to him on the bed, then went over to the sink and fumbled with the water temperature till she got it just right, cloth pleasantly warm. In a manner that resembled as if they would've both been robots, she went about setting the towel on his most painful area she knew exactly where it was and that emotionless way was the only one that was possible and worked, for both of them.

Her hand lingered on the top of the towel a few seconds longer than was necessary to place it, but her fingers wanted to establish that the wet piece of cloth had indeed brought some release to the tortured prisoner. As far as she was concerned, the easiest means of keeping the killer quiescent was putting a steel rod through his head and keeping it there and him in stasis till the end of the next century, at least. She didn't however, pull the shots around here. With Sylar's shapeshifting ability, that was voted out as a possibility and the anti formula favored.

Claire pulled a notebook and a pen out her bag next and without one word so far she choose a spot by the wall not too close to him, but not to far, where she sat down with her legs folded under her and started scribbling as if it was the most natural thing in the universe.

It didn't faze Sylar either, it wasn't the first time. Holding on to the soothing cloth with a hand, he turned to his side to face her, "new one?"

"Uhm," Claire affirmed and aligned something in her notes.

"What's the title?"

"Fate: Fact, or Fiction?"

Sylar couldn't help, but laugh, "smashing essay topic. I think it's one of Mohinder's favorites though. You should ask him."

Claire gave him a "right, don't bullshit me" look. "It was your dictation that gave me the top mark on the essay on whether Waiting for Godot is an existentialist play."

He shook his head in incredulity at her latest request, but in essence, he didn't mind showing her how clever and educated he was at all, "well as long as you don't ask me to do Hummurabi's Laws, the Allegory of the Cave or God forbid, Biomedical Ethics?!? Tell me Claire, what made you take up Philosophy at College?"

The petite blond shrugged, "the good versus evil debate has something to do with it. That and the fact that what I learn now will still probably be valid a couple of hundred years down the line?"

He was impressed by her answer, but didn't want to show it. "So what do you think? Do you believe that we are all free to do whatever we want and that we alone create our luck, or are we fated to follow some decided path and no matter what we do we are foreordained to live out our life accordant to someone's design?"

"What I think, or you for that matter, doesn't count. You know how professors are. They wanna know what you can conclude from theories, not what anybody in their right mind would believe."

"Okay, Claire, are you ready?"

She raised her pen, armed, "make it about a thousand words as usual."

"Those who genuinely accept the whole concept of destiny are the ones who have it easy. They can look at any situation and say that the outcome, whatever it may be..."

tbc


	6. Atrip

Chapter 6: Atrip

Claire somehow found it comical that they could never spend a family dinner out together without interruptions. She was not at all surprised, nor troubled when her father excused himself to take a cell call from the company.

What she wasn't expecting that soon Lyle and her mom would be looking at her with the same disapproving and disappointed expression they regarded her father whenever he blamed his work for running off. Claire would never consider herself a company girl or'd want her family to think about her that way, only this time she had no choice, but to leave her favorite cheese soufflé at the renowned vegetarian restaurant she could never afford herself, check that she did bring her taser gun with her and run to her dad's car with him, ready to intercept the emergency situation back at the prison facility.

Noah couldn't tell her everything that had happened, but apparently there was a security breech of the highest grade. Prisoner 19, Phillip Norton, their newest addition to their lot of superhuman prisoners, possessed the dangerous power to turn anything or anybody he wanted into a paper mache, but it wasn't this ability that he used when he overpowered guards with his bare hands and made it impossible for a new anti formula dose to be administered to him. Since at that point he still didn't have his power back yet, he then went on to take some hostages and demand some other cells to be opened so that he could have more people on his side. Noah mentally made a note of having to talk to Angela on too many costs having been cut. They didn't have enough personnel to cope with cases like this 24 hours a day.

"What about Sylar?" Claire asked the first question that appeared in her mind.

Her father didn't have time to answer as he was jumping another red light, but as soon as they were speeding down the highway, he turned his head towards her for a moment, "I really don't know," he frowned, "we'll have to see when we get there."

Twenty minutes seemed like hours till they reached their target. Claire was too busy worrying about her dad's welfare in case of a crash to think too much about the serial killer. Angela was already there when they arrived, her dismissing hand gesture stopped their hurried rush and now they were only quickly walking towards her.

"Norton has been dealt with," she pointed to the bloodied, lifeless form behind her. "Number ten and thirteen have been recaptured. The present personnel had been less effective regarding number nine. Two recovery teams had been sent after him. No other prisoner got out."

Noah put his gun back into his pocket, "emergency over then?"

"Not quite. We have lost control over the underground levels. We have it sealed off, but nobody has any idea what's going on down there. No visual either. I was just about to send the back up teams down."

"On your command, Sir," Elisa, the most senior agent in attendance of the Department of Homeland Security addressed Noah, giving over responsibility over the operation to Bennett, if he was there, not part of any organization that had initials, but nevertheless their acting boss.

Without being fazed, or showing any annoyance or emotion at all, Noah took out both his taser and his firearm, then indicated he was ready.

The stairs down seemed quiet and the first look onto the corridor gave a similar view. Eric Doyle was thankfully in his cell, Claire concluded and so were the next two prisoners, Samedi and Geraldi, although they seemed rather agitated and looking into the other direction.

A moment later it became clear what the object of their interest was. There were casualties. Guards, burned inside out without a fire being present, no doubt courtesy of Gina Straw, also known as the recaptured number thirteen. The top half of another body was turned paper mache, but Norton already paid for that with his life.

Noah side stepped in a way most of the bodies were not visible to Claire, and waved the agents in that direction as well. Nobody could miss the scalpless victims lying on the hallway lower down. Blood froze in Claire for a moment, but she willed it to continue flowing and forced herself to look away.

"Sylar's new powers are: breathing under water and seems like he reacquired his enhanced hearing," Elisa judged by turning over the victims to establish their identity and their respective powers that have been absorbed, "not the most useful, under the circumstances," she commented. "Only prisoner four and six is unaccounted for," the agent let everyone know of everything that could be helpful and made sure that her team was aware of all the facts and factors as it was her duty, "the rest are locked in their cells."

"Not so good," one of the DHS officers to her side remarked. Of course those on the loose, had to be some of the most dangerous, Sylar, and Constance Blake, who could command easily the many dead that were around them.

"The inhibiting formula's effects did not have enough time to wear off," Elisa assured them, "but cover your backs the same." They were her last words.

Her commands were executed too late as the deceased guards raised their guns and fired at them from all angles, not affected by the fire being returned. Claire was shot as well, but she was more bothered by the hairless, scalpless woman grabbing her foot so that she couldn't get away and make sure the bullets didn't reach her father.

Several moments of desperate combat ensued. Those still alive tried to make it towards the lab, while the numbers of the enemies increased by the second. The agent next to her dad got shot in the head and immediately turned on Noah and Claire could only watch as his dead fingers handled the gun.

Of a sudden, her foot got free and she launched herself, but there wasn't any danger to anyone anymore. Bodies fell to the ground lifeless as they should've, joined by Constance Blake herself with the top of her head missing, the superhuman previously responsible for the command of the dead.

Sylar was sitting on the stairs leading up to the lab on the other side of the corridor, clasping his temples, "don't you think you're all too noisy," he grumbled. Although he got used to enhanced hearing once, some adjusting was needed this time round as well.

At least half a dozen pairs of taser electrodes were fired in his direction at the same time. Under regulation, it was supposed to be the more effective weapon to be used against the serial killer. Normally he would heal too quickly from bullet wounds, a taser could maybe stun him a millisecond longer. Additionally, if he turned the projectiles and fired them back, there would be less damage.

Sylar didn't raise his head, nor used any powers to stop the sharp prongs. The projectiles connected to his body, the electric current moving up and down him in waves. Seeing some success, Noah armed his specialized inhibiting formula gun before the charge of the taser shots could completely die out. Every possible card had to be played on the evolved killer.

"Careful," Noah felt the need to say when agents encircled Sylar from all angles, with one nearing the back of his head in particular.

The pray seemed to be shivering and didn't attempt any moves. There was an edgy silence before Noah addressed him, "stand up and start walking towards your cell."

Every hand hovered in the air tensely and jittery till the drawn out answer came. "I can't."

"You will," Noah emphasized.

Another moment passed with nothing happening when Claire edged forward in between two soldiers, "could I, dad?" Having not much to fear with the agent in position at Sylar's back of his head and with Claire's ability, he nodded in his daughter's direction to proceed.

Disregarding everybody's expectations to check whether Sylar was lying, Claire had no doubts how weak Mohinder's new inhibiting formula affected him. "Let me help you," she crouched under the sitting killer's shoulder to encourage him to get upright. Immediately, as she'd expected, she felt how drained he was, in agony and extremely nauseous and he'd been half incapacitated to start with before the whole escape incident started.

Sylar sighed in defeat. This was not how he'd imagined any day of his life, but he needed her to walk, or he'll be dragged on the floor in shame. Between her and the wall's support, they slowly made it back into the draconian prison compartment, surrounded by the unbelieving faces of puzzled guards, agents and officers. He only drearily registered being deposited onto his bed, where he could give in to his exhaustion.

Outside, Claire was met with a commandeering Angela, who'd come down to take charge after things were under control. "Get Mohinder here after the clean up. I want every captive who was any more active during this incident, given double doses of the inhibiting drug."

Her grand daughter shook her head, "I understand it was Norton who let them out?"

"Yes," Angela thought her worthy of giving her a monosyllabic answer before turning to leave.

"Then why do they all need double doses?"

"Pandora's box will be closed, dear, at all costs," she answered without turning back.

"Sylar just saved your life." Claire stated flatly and factually, turning to Noah, "if he hadn't incapacitated Blake, you could be dead," she stepped over to him to hug him.

"And now he has command of the dead," Noah frowned, leading his daughter off the ill fated hallway.

Claire had no intentions blinking behind her. She could deal with death and emergency situations if it was necessary, but this time it wasn't needed and she could succumb to her natural tendency of flight. "Dad. Didn't you say I could take a vacation if I wanted?"

"Of course," Noah sighed relieved. For a while there, he didn't understand her volunteering to help the killer, but her wanting to go away, that made more sense. "You can resign from your post, take a holiday as long as you want, whatever. But even if you decide to do it by your employment contract, you still have about five days to take."

"Thank you dad. I'll call you when I get there."

"Where?"

"Some seaside resort. Just to chill out. Sand, sun..."

"Sex?!?"

"You know, a normalcy holiday. I might use your credit card?"

"Err..yeah," he faintly smiled and waved at her, happy to see her go. Elisa's replacement was already coming in his direction for reporting casualties, no doubt.

Claire only got till the elevator till tears started falling down her cheeks. They felt as if they were burning her face like acid. She paused, not moving, assuring the droplets were making their way down as slowly as it was possible. If she concentrated on them, she didn't have to think about those fallen, she didn't have to remember the fact that she will have to watch every single one of her loved ones die one day. And if she'll learn to love another, than again.

But that wasn't why she had to flee, to get out and forget. Angela assured her inhibiting doses'll be doubled. Which meant she would've had to watch Sylar suffer like she had never before.

Tbc


	7. Validation

Chapter 7: Validation

Claire took a last look at herself in the rear view mirror, a small, but pleased smile playing on her lips. So far in her life she'd never managed a tan before. Perhaps her special ability had always streamed out the effect of the harmful rays of the sun, but over the last week she'd persevered with it that much she'd finally acquired that healthy cream color. The college student liked her new appearance and wondered for a moment whether Sylar'll notice and comment on it positively, like many times earlier. If he was at all anywhere near conscious, that is, she frowned.

On arrival, she was told to report to her father's office, where Noah greeted her with a warm embrace, leaning the side of his face onto the top of her head. It was good to have her away from it all, but it was even better to have her back. "How was your holiday?"

"Holidaylike. Boring. How is it going around here?"

"Companylike."

"Well, at least I'm relaxed, recharged and ready for work," she said more cheerily than it was possible to believe or anybody would in that place and sat down on the chair opposite her father's desk.

Noah walked slowly over to the other side, "you are not on duty tonight."

"What? But I was told to come here...no need for my services, huh? The new dose made sure that every prisoner is well and truly sedated and guards are no longer necessary!" She tried to crack a joke.

"No, Claire-bear. Angela doesn't need you to do your normal checking round because Sylar's not here anymore."

"Wha...?!? Where is he?"

"United States Penitentiary Hospital, Polunsky Highest Security Unit, Livingston, Texas."

"But...but..." Claire was thinking with her mouth open till she decided she was sure how she felt about what she'd just heard, "I don't understand," was her conclusion.

Noah, of course misunderstood her concern. "Don't worry, Claire-bear. The transfer ambulance was organized and handled by Peter and it has been established with prison personnel that under no circumstances would they lower his inhibiting formula doze without a direct order from me or Angela Petrelli."

"What is Sylar doing in a hospital?" Claire had finally found her voice.

"You know how the formula works and the possible side effects with him. According to Mohinder, Sylar'd developed peritonitis following diverticulitis. He'd died on us three times in five days and every time we had to let off with the drugs to allow him to heal. It was decided that it wasn't safe to put us into a situation where he could regain his strength and turn on us. In the hospital they can keep him in a certain condition, on life support if necessary and make sure he doesn't die and makes the whole carry on necessary all over again. You know, we can't really do anything while the president is so keen on campaigning for abolishing the death row completely all over the country. Mohinder's just back from Livingston and assured me that everything's under control."

"You really don't want our own surveillance teams on him?"

"Oh, yes, we do. Two of our people are there at any time and Angela requested it should be you next to do your little check up, just to be sure. I've got your train tickets, or you can drive if you wish?"

Claire looked at the printed paper her father had given to her. The train was leaving in less than half an hour.

Tbc


	8. Saturated

Chapter 8: Saturated

Still a little bewildered by the whole unusual situation, Claire stepped into Sylar's hospital room assured by the two guards outside that there was no visible change in the prisoner's condition, or the readings on the monitors connected to him. Slowly moving forward, the young woman took in the sight of the bed, dominated by many wires, pipes and tubes, most notably to her, a tube leading a whitish reddish mixed liquid out Sylar's exposed abdomen.

Startled by the sight, the young blond didn't know whether to laugh or cry. State affairs, politics, all these things her biological father was so much into once, was decidedly a funny business. For what so many instruments, machines and drugs were necessary for someone who could heal himself in minutes was beyond her. If the president was so openly trying to make a no more death rows case of the serial killer, he shouldn't be so freaked out about allowing him to regenerate. They were all covering their asses, the whole lot. And in the meantime...

Claire didn't dare to touch him. She had no aversion to coming into physical contact with the man who had hurt her in the past. Given recent developments, that had been a distant memory. But she had absolutely no wishes to experience first hand how much he was suffering. She didn't need special powers to that. Her eyesight made it evident. She studied his colorless, dull skin, the barely noticeable, unconscious frown that marred his face, the soft, quiet, moanlike sound that came through his slightly open lips every time he took a breath. Touching his midsection would've meant certainty and she didn't want certainty. She didn't want to be right and know that a handful of people who she loved or wanted to find it in herself to have a high regard for, would do this to another human being: her father, Peter, her grandmother. How could they? Have they no compassion, no pity, no shame or sense that something was amiss?

The blond didn't know when her hand reached out and why and how she's ended up squeezing Sylar's unresponsive fingers, but one thing she was certain of: "can you hear me? Sylar, it's Claire. I'm going to help you, I promise."

She spent the rest of her shift sitting by his side with an occasional rub of his arm to let him know she was still there and drawing up a plan of action in her mind on how to proceed. It was going to be difficult to contain him and his powers without the company's methods and facilities, but with them she was done with for once and for all. She will continue with her shifts only until her plan could be put into action so that nobody got suspicious. Perhaps she could even contact Rebel. There must be plenty of evolved humans like him out there who didn't trust this new version of the company either, and with good reason. How keen they'd be on Sylar, she didn't know, but it was one of the options she worked out in her mind and could try.

Claire got the shock of her lifetime (one the many shocks of many lifetimes) when Rebel text her back immediately and disclosed that he considered he owed Sylar one for having saved his life. It was not long before he assured her that he could send a certain Rachel Mills to teleport the prisoner out there any time she was ready for the move.

After some reassuring messages where Claire was trying to make sure the Rebel knew what he was getting himself into, she was happy to find that the messeger on the other side of the phone line had agreed with her on the importance of not just Sylar not being tortured, but also that he will not be able to hurt anyone or avenge what has been done to him.

Thus came the offer. If she waited a little more, LAWR, the team Rebel was working with could set up a place where they could keep the killer for a while, under Claire's supervision. He could be drug free, contained by walls operated by machines manipulated by the Rebel's own power. A magnetic field, that was ability proof.

Knowing she would never get a better proposal, Claire text back: "THE SOONER THE BETTER".

Tbc


	9. Integrity

Chapter 9: Integrity

The agile, athletic build, brown haired woman who'd introduced herself as Rach to Claire before starting to glow and teleport both Sylar and Claire out the hospital room previously, set down the crate of multifruit juice, the last of the seven boxes that contained all the food that prisoner and prison guard would need for a whole month.

"Email Rebel if there's any problems," Rach smiled at her encouragingly before disappearing, "we could be here in seconds."

Claire opened the suitcase she initially took with herself to Livingston so that she could take up her post there, and hurriedly pulled a cardigan out. Although it was the middle of the summer, aided by the heat provided by the midnight sun, she could've bet that it wasn't any more than 5 Celsius degrees out there as she was standing next to the small compound situated about ten miles south of Barrow, Alaska, on the flat tundra stretching hundreds of miles in front of her. She'd better go inside and turn on the gas heater, the fuel supplied from some nearby gas field. Unpacking she would do later, there was plenty of time as she didn't figure it out yet what she was going to do with the massive amount of time all by herself, apart from hoping that the satellite dish will make her telly and the internet working as promised. All by herself, if she didn't count her captive.

A little apprehensive, she walked into the small room that she was assured was ability proofed for Sylar. It didn't look much different, than her bedroom, adjacent. The killer had been teleported from his hospital bed right onto the king size one in between a nightstand and a dresser of drawers with a telly on top. Claire briefly acknowledged the sizing of the bed, noting to herself that it'll accommodate Sylar's tall figure well. A closet and a single chair completed the furniture, but thankfully everything looked tidy and clean. And more importantly, even though the house was relatively small, both bedrooms had separate toilets and showers.

She stepped closer and realized that although he has been disconnected from the various wires and drips at the teleportation, the drain leading infected fluids out his belly was still peeking out from under the clean pajama top they changed him into at the health facility. Claire pulled it out disgusted and immediately deposited it into the lidded bin in the bathroom just to be confronted by the hole the tube left in his stomach, leaking blood. "Still way too much drugs in his system," she mumbled when she pulled out her hanky she never used for anything anyway and pressed it to the wound. More to keep the bedding clean, she told herself, than anything else, but if she had to admit the truth it was because she was worried it could take a while till he gained his abilities back.

The little blond gave an unconscious sigh of relief when she saw the handkerchief didn't get saturated with red, and when she peered under it she could finally see the edges of the gap in the skin starting to close over. She looked up. There was some color in his cheeks now and his whole body became more relaxed along with his deep, reinvigorating breathing.

Claire wanted to be there when he woke up, explain things, see his reaction, perhaps take a little credit for what she has done. She sat by him, not sure what to expect. After all, there will be only her and Sylar out there as far away from civilization as it could go.

It took him about half an hour to start stirring, groaning loudly. It meant he was getting stronger. When she went to the hospital he would not even be able to do that. Sylar's eyes opened very suddenly, but they looked around in confusion waiting for the blur in front of him to settle. It was very bright, he established, and that was the reason it was hard to see. He tried to sit up, but winced with the pain searing through him.

"You'd better keep still for the time being," a soft, kind voice said next to him, "as far as I gather from what I heard about them, the drugs could take hours to completely clear out your body. Nobody'll be able to shove any more into you here."

Disregarding his surroundings as the focus of his attention, Sylar's semi-wild, muzzy gaze searched for her eyes till he found them, only to see merely comfort and truthfulness staring back at him.

The killer lay back, a look of wonder passing over his face, "there is. There is some good in this world..."

"Perhaps," Claire shrugged, "but the problem could be there's not enough love and goodness in the world to permit us giving away any of it..."

"I can see you got tutored well and became more philosophical somewhere along the line."

"And much good that's gonna do to me! No more degree, no more college, I'm stuck here with you in the Arctic!"

"Have you kidnapped me by any chance?" Sylar took up an interest in where they were once again. He couldn't see much out the window, but there was a door, and it wasn't even shut. "What is this place?"

"Some tourist camp set up for those wishing to hunt for caribou on their normal habitat. The LAWR rented it out for us."

"Oh. It's cold," Sylar concluded idly, not specifying whether he meant it in Alaska or in the room. Perhaps he was still rather mono-syllabic.

"Yeah, I didn't have time to turn on the gas for the night. It's quite late actually," she gestured towards the sun, which however low on the sky, was pretty bright. She stepped out into the hall, "don't try anything. Or try, whatever. Once the inhibiting formula wears off, your abilities will work, but you won't be able to step out and cross beyond these walls. You are surrounded by a magnetic field, responding only to your DNA. Don't ask me how, a thirteen year old child prodigy did it, just by telling a generator what to do. Hope it makes sense..." She stepped out for a moment to indeed turn on the heat. "Sorry for the state of the place...no decoration, or much entertainment. I asked for magazines, we should get them soon," she stood in the doorway and blabbered on out of anxiety, omitting the little detail that they were fashion magazines and therefore not likely to peak Sylar's curiosity. "Well, I should unpack." Anticipating he should be back to his normal monstrous self pretty soon, she decided to leave him. Just because they were not at the company, it didn't mean she had to spend any more time with him.

Tbc


	10. Switch

Chapter 10: Switch

It was slow, but Sylar felt life flowing more and more powerfully in his veins while clattering and shuffling sounds came from downstairs, from what was presumably a kitchen. Sylar enjoyed the moment simply lying flat on his back, it wasn't as much his strength coming back, but the absence of pain. The only thing that was bothering him at the moment was how Claire's voice sounded to him when she said her last few sentences. During his capture the girl usually talked to him on an even voice, as if trying to show him she couldn't be influenced. Some sadness seeped into it sometimes, and then there was that capacity for compassionateness in her she couldn't conceal. Sylar was sure it had to do with an amount of fellow feeling, and he will make sure Claire will admit that to herself one day. Right now however, she had physically and emotionally retreated from him and that somehow made Sylar a little frustrated. It was not in his nature though to dwell on negative thoughts too much, he left that to Gabriel instead.

So he pulled himself into a sitting position without trouble and swiftly set his bare feet down. His strength was almost complete. Abilities were literally feeling like they were clicking themselves into place in his head and he gave them an idle try just to be certain. He turned the first object he saw, the small pocket Bible on the nightstand into gold, then chucked it into the drawer. Might come in useful later. He did not suppose Claire had much money on her hands without daddy Bennett funding her. He made contact with the lamp on the stand just by chance, well, it had to be said that was an object with so very little history during its existence, apart from once serving as a leaning frame to some gay couple when they made love. Not much interested anymore, he closed the drawer telekinetically.

Trying out all his abilities for the sake of it was not necessary, not to mention shapeshifting was so off the menu it's unbelievable. But he always liked to practice any new powers he'd acquired, something he didn't have the chance to after the last time he looked at some evolved humans' brains for being shot down and up with a vengeance. There was not a way to test breathing under water at the moment either and he already had proof of having mastered his special hearing, given his previous experience with the ability. The beginnings of a grin started on his face, he knew what Claire was up to exactly in the other room. The soft, barely noticeable sound of some small, narrow piece of fabric rubbing against skin gave her away. She was changing her panties...then unfortunately she put as much warm clothing on as she could find.

Which let one more new noesis to consider, control of the dead. Sylar did not give the resulting mind action much conscious thought-it was not just about the fact that the necessary neurons, dendrites and synapses were created in his own brain the moment he looked at the late Constance Blake's brain, but also it was not questionable what exactly he would want to do with his newly fangled power. His inner self gave the answer too quickly for him to even debate it with himself. His lips moved and he breathed out one shaky word: "Elle..."

Still, he turned around a little jumpy when he heard crackling coming from the empty corner of the room. The cause of the noise was blue electricity and behind it, the supple form of Elle emerged, standing in front of him, stiff, awkward and wobbly.

Sylar gave his head a little, confused shake. He didn't like what he saw. Far from him to be afflicted by what others would consider a disturbing scene, the woman was the one person who could have made it feel too ad hominem. But instead of arguing with his own instincts regarding using the ability of control of the dead, he tilted his head and concentrated. That ability needed perfected, used and mastered, better than the original owner ever did. It's use had to be understood on a molecular level and then put together as a whole. Elle looked too ungainly, unnatural, inconvenient to see. Her movements had to be smoothed, there had to be sparks in her eyes and most of all, she had to be able to speak as a result of her own thinking process, not puppet mastery or the fine tuned telekinesis he was capable of.

"Hey Gabriel..." She said calmly with her pretty voice, accompanied by her characteristic sad smile. She looked at him straight with her heartbroken eyes and stuck out her chin the way she usually ascertained herself. She looked down at herself, than around her, "hm, something about rustic charm..." Ravishing as ever, she stepped forward, towards him.

It was that moment that he realized that he did it. He had commanded the dead to act, appear and be alive, for all intended purposes, at least while he was using that power and oh boy, was it worth the immense headache and concentration it required to make it so. And the intended purpose was to ask her that question that was on his mind ever since that weird day of the eclipse. "Elle, it makes no sense. Why did you lie there and let me kill you like that when you could fry my brains unconscious just like you had before? You had your ability, there was nothing stopping you. Why did you let me become this killer again and again?"

"Love does strange things, you know...I didn't expect it. I didn't expect it big time. Either that, or I was suicidal, perhaps both," she said so evenly and unemotionally that Sylar wondered if it was really her, or just his imagination. "I don't know, all right? I never had a choice in anything. To know who I am, or why I do or don't do things. It's not like it's my fault or anything that I mix up pain with pleasure and vice versa. And uh, I hate to tell you, but I am dead, and I'll never have the choice. I still believe you might though," she stepped closer one bit more and placed a single chaste kiss on his lips.

Then she was gone, leaving Sylar grabbing his head and dropping back on the bed. That was it, a little too much, a little more than Constance Blake that ever achieved with her ability, yet not enough to bring out the real Elle for more than a few seconds. He did get an answer to his question, one of them that is. He didn't get to ask how intimate of a relationship Elle and Claire had had when they were friends. Was it as cozy as he thought it was? Well, maybe he'll find that out from Claire one day, it's not worth giving himself another headache over.

By the way, Claire. Her withdrawal, her antagonism, her actuation to show him she was pure and untouchable by evil. He had meant every word he said to her, that he wanted her and his proposal for them to rule the world together, for her to be his First Lady, his wife. He still believed that one fine day she will come to love him, most likely when the people she was attached to were dead, but why wait lifetimes for that? Claire had clearly showed mercy towards him, compassion even. She had cared about him and she had acted upon it numerous times trying to ease his pain. That could be the key.

Sylar liked to be in control and being regarded by people as someone who pulled the strings. Shocking, stunning and eliciting fear in others had a certain intoxicating allure. At the same time, he had nothing against using his intelligence to manipulate them for goals that paid off later, like when he appeared to beg for his life to Mohinder, but it was in fact the scientist's life that was at stake. So far in the past now, given how that man treated him and with what!

The current goal was to get Claire on his side before the winter set in. He had no intentions to spend months in total darkness in Alaska. So he will play a little game that Claire will believe because she will trust her own abilities. Those drugs had debilitated him, and those drugs will liberate him. Mohinder had well boasted about himself regarding how good the inhibiting drugs were that he had created, with lasting effects. The blond will have no reason to doubt it when weeks later he will still show some remaining symptoms of having been injected with it. No matter how much he hated using his shapeshifting ability, he could produce any symptoms or could twist his own insides and such when Claire touches him. She will think he is not well and will eventually try to get help for him again with the side effect of the two of them becoming even more close.

Surely the Arctic was no place to be.

Tbc


	11. Homogenous

Chapter 11: Homogeneous

Amazing what three weeks of boredom can do. Claire had just been to town for some ingredients she has ordered and was now cooking up dinner for the two of them. She choose tomato bruschetta with spinach, and not just because it was easy to make, but also because it was easy on the stomach.

Although they never talked about it, Claire was sure about her own assumptions. It was Sylar who had the superhearing, but certainly she was not deaf either. It was the second time this week she woke up to the sounds of him being sick at night, and sometimes in the morning he looked blench and a little worse for wear. Then he would sleep all day and never eat much. He never complained, or mentioned it, but it was not hard to guess that he was still suffering from what the company has done to him. The symptoms were the same, only a lot more subdued.

The blond was assuming the side effects will disappear soon, but did not feel like asking him if he was getting better. She was not his babysitter after all. It was uncomplicated to patronize a comatose serial killer, a conscious one, not that much. So instead, she was trying to make sure the food was less likely to upset his delicate stomach.

Claire took her crispy concoction out the grill. It looked surprisingly yummy for someone who was doing it for the first time. She arranged the pieces of bread neatly on the plates, she did like it when her captive was impressed by something she had done or achieved.

Sylar seemed mildly surprised when she stepped in. There were too identical plates on the tray. Claire set one of them down in front of him on the bed and held the other one on her lap where she sat down at the foot of the large bed. Far enough to be comfortable, but not having to spend the meal in the eerie silence that dominated her kitchen.

"What, no cake?" Sylar pulled his plate into his lap.

"I will probably not be in cake making mood till my 20th birthday," she shrugged.

"The 11th of the January is a long way away, little Claire."

"You know a lot about me, huh?" She squinted, the low sun in her eyes where she was sitting.

"The date of your birth is hardly a lot," he telekinetically pulled the heavy curtains so that the light didn't bother the girl. "Besides, do you really know for sure that wasn't only a made up time they put in your files?"

Claire wanted to oppose. Now that the blinds were closed, she found it was a little too dark to be comfortable in the same room with a killer so suddenly. But some other things were already set in motion, so she watched what was happening somewhat perplexed. The nightstand was turning over on its side and slid into the middle of the room, then its drawer opened and two candles flew out, settling on the top side of the overturned piece of furniture.

A thin criss cross line of blue energy shot out of Sylar's upturned palm and lit the candles, "it can not be comfortable for you eating like this. Allow me..." The plates levitated over to the makeshift table Sylar set, cutlery and all.

Claire was really at a loss of what was going on when a bit of the incidentally pink loo paper floated out the bathroom and started folding itself many times mid air. "Oh no, no, no!" She stood up when she realized paper roses were created and set down around her plate. "We're so not looking like we're having a date!"

"Not even for fun, Claire? We'd both know it's not real, so what's the problem? Aren't you just a little curious how'd that turn out?" He stood too, but neared the table, "would differences come out? Similarities?" He knelt down at his side of the set dinner. "How many real dates have daddy's little girl had?"

"I'd only be interested in figuring you out so I don't become anything like you. By the way, don't you know a bit too much about me, but not the other way round?" She took a stance by the sitting opposite him, daring him on. "Besides being a serial killer, that is."

"Mere technicality," Sylar waved a hand and shoved another one of the bruschiettas in his mouth. "Mmmm," he closed his eyes, with a facial expression that talked of sheer bliss, so much that Claire was starting to feel a bit discomfited that she cooked up such a good meal as if she was rewarding the killer for something.

Sylar savored his food bit by bit for a while before remarking anything more, "I've always wished there was a power that made people capable of coming up with such heavenly dishes."

"You don't need an ability for that," Claire scolded, "how about trying to be normal and doing it you know, the normal way as it's done? You should try it."

"So you'd prefer to teach me cook, Saint Claire?"

"It's not exactly what I'd imagined doing in my wild dreams."

"What you've imagined doing in your wild dreams?" Sylar cocked his head towards her.

"My dreams..." Claire said thoughtfully, "that I'd like myself. That if I could love my inner freak, others could too. The world could. Not having to spend a life denying who we really are...do you want to be who you are, Sylar?"

"Is it a matter of choice? The fact that it's hard, perhaps impossible to change, to ignore the existence of your ability, means to be that all that philosophy does not matter. Does anyone know what it is that makes some choose selflessness, the need to devote oneself to something greater, while others know only self-interest? Why some seek love, even if unrequited, while others are driven by fear and betrayal? And there comes catch 22. There's no point to thinking about it, assessing yourself. Cause you're right, who you are, is who you are."

"But you must know what made you who you are. People don't become serial killers for no reason."

"You don't wanna ask me that. I might be tempted to tell you."

"I am asking," she said slowly, decidedly and truthfully and his lie detector didn't ring either.

Claire remembered how he had said before that he had met his real father, just like she had been searching for her origins. "You were disappointed by your findings when you found out where you came from. Is that why you say you had no choice?"

The killer directed his eyes towards his food and finished his plate, but even then he was staring down the floor. Claire was about to conclude there will not be an answer to her question or perhaps ask him if he was okay. Which one she was going to do, she has not decided yet.

"You do have a new pack of printer paper, right?" He asked, his eyebrows deeply furrowed, "could you bring it in?"

His conversation partner did not ask where he knew from she had brought one back from town that morning, but stood and done as she was asked. Claire didn't usually mind him borrowing her laptop either.

Sylar opened the pack with telekinesis, but held his palm over the top of the paper. His hand was starting to glow golden, and the sheets too. The young blond scooted over closer, curious about this ability he had. It was imprinting. Gold characters appeared on the paper as if hand written by him and Claire pulled up right against his side to try to read them.

"For you," he handed her over the pack of pages full of writing right till the end. The ink turned black as if written by a Biro when he let go. "The story of my life. Right from my first memories to this very minute."

"Err..thanks...I think," Claire took the large block of papers confused and stood up. Surely she had no printing paper left! Except for a lot of reading to do if she was in any case bored. Which she was of course.

Tbc


	12. Borderland

Chapter 12: Borderland

It was the early hours of the morning and Claire had not slept one wink. For a while now, she was staring at the last page of her imprinted pack of printing paper where it said "thank you for the lovely dinner" as the latest thing in Sylar's life indeed, just like he had hinted it would be written like.

And just like promised, the large story that took her several hours to read without being able to stop, had started with Sylar's early recollections of being pulled in a wooden cart by his father and continued by his mother's murder by his dad around the same spot, being sold to another family for they didn't have children, his adoptive father abandoning them too, yet making him to follow his profession of watchmaking for grounds of possible appreciation of his choice if his adoptive father ever came back. Watches became his sole world for years. Because he understood them so well, they fueled his conception that there was something different and special about him, that he didn't belong. On some days he wanted to belong, but his mother wouldn't let him just be. She wished him to be more than a watchmaker, she advised him to try to be president on many occasions for she wanted him to be capable of such things, whether he felt like it, or not. To what he was trying to tell her she never listened, she had her own ideas about her son.

Then Dr. Chandra Suresh came into his life. He gave him new knowledge, he gave him hope that somehow there was a way to fulfill that hunger he felt for something, but he could never satisfy. It so amazingly all fell into place in his head when Brian Davis stepped into his shop, tortured by a power he didn't want to possess. Now Sylar knew what he had to do, but liked being in his own skin less for it. He would have hanged himself if not for Elle Bishop, who had made him think he was loved and that he was able to be good. But she had tricked him. Though he was sure she had feelings for him, she had used him under the direction of Claire's own father, put him in a situation where he couldn't keep himself from going for another ability, only so they Primatech people could study it. Further experimentation on him followed in captivity, then by Mohinder all on his own.

Believing that only those who do not deserve their powers needed to die, Sylar did not want to explode and kill innocent people. His cries for being stopped were shunned by Mohinder and it was then that he returned home in desperation, after being too embarrassed in front of his mother for what he has been up to previously. She had rejected him, with his powers, just like he'd anticipated, but her death was an accident. All he wanted to show her was who he really was.

The reader kinda knew most of the rest, but it surely sounded different coming from his perspective. It was a race for survival at first, then he became side tracked and tricked again by people who wanted to use him, Angela, Arthur, Noah Bennett, even Elle. So what he could do is find out what the truth was regarding them, and then go back to his origins and confront his fathers.

Being with Luke was interesting, fun god forbid, but he didn't have time to enjoy the time with who he believed was very likely his younger half brother. They were hunted down too soon and that never stopped till he infiltrated the organization and dealt with it from the top, from where all the nonsense came from. Self defense, if you like...

Claire held the last piece of paper like a statue. Her mouth slightly open as she forgot to shut it in the deep thought she was, she experienced this ice cold feeling in her chest, that did not come from the low temperatures in the Arctic. Understanding the reasons behind Sylar's actions did not make him any less fearsome, it did not make him any less of a monster. But it made a whole lot of sense. It made so many other people responsible for how he had turned out as well. Who was the victim at what point, was hard to tell. Question was, was there any way of undoing all that damage?

She heard it then, again. Sylar was still being sick as a result of them people's ruthless experimentation and assertion of what was right for them. And now, there was no doubt in Claire's mind that she will stand up and go to him.

Tbc


	13. Approximate

Chapter 13: Approximate

Like she was anticipating, Claire found Sylar sitting in front of the toilet bowl, shaky and taking deep breaths to presumably stop the waves of nausea. "You didn't include this bit in the book," Claire scolded him while filling a glass with water for him.

"I didn't say it was...it was all inclusive," he took the glass from her, but set it down in front of him on the floor. "It's too early to drink anything, I'll just be sick again," he explained at her questioning look, "so sorry about your nice dinner going to waste."

"Oh, no need for apologies, I can see you're all peachy," Claire commented, "so why don't we get you into bed? Perhaps you should get some sleep."

"Yeah, that should do," he replied, concentrating. It was the moment he had been practicing his inner shapeshifting for, for when she had touched him and handled him. It was quite easy after he figured it out actually. Changing the fluid levels in his inner ears produced a good bit a vertigo, making him dizzy and nauseous at the same time, both being results that Claire could pick up upon. Couple that with directing less blood flow to his head and the girl would read him as quite faint, with the added advantage of looking reasonably sickly.

He must've been doing it all right, as after putting him to bed, Claire continued with bringing the glass of water over to the nightstand in case he needed it later and picking up a towel to wet it with warm water the same way she had been doing at the company cells sometimes.

Sylar had to cover a lot of uncharted territory in practice. He had to clench his insides, then constrict a little less when Claire was supposed to have a positive effect on his stomach with her moist piece of cloth. It was fine tuned shapeshifting that made him a little shaky as it usually did when he used that ability, but of course that only added to the effect.

The blond held the piece of material in place. Not as if bringing him a load of painkillers from the town pharmacy would help much. It had to be a lot before his body would register it. She felt his discomfort. His stomach was cramping nowhere near as bad as it had been at the company under direct influence of the formula, but it made him miserable nevertheless.

Encouraged by the effectiveness of the towel to alleviate his distress, she automatically started moving it in little circles, rubbing the upper part of his abdomen with it. Impressed by the attention she was giving him, Sylar immediately decided that the tummy massage was bound to be helping him and lessened the cramping to a level that was hardly noticeable, which in some ways, was harder to do, than definite shifting. On the one hand, there he was, enjoying what he wanted for so long, to be touched by her in an intimate and caring manner, but also having to use his least favorite ability to keep her going. He closed his eyes, feigning resting after her supposedly successful attempt to help him, but in fact sleep was the last thing he could have been doing. If he fell asleep and lost control of his shapeshifting even for a minute, Claire could add two and two together and figure out what was going on.

So when finally his hatred for his shifting power got to a certain level, he opened his eyes, "you should go back to sleep, little Claire. I'll be fine."

She let it slide right by her and was quickly ready with the answer, "no. We should talk," she walked to wet the towel again, then went back to what she was doing before, "your condition getting any better over the last few weeks?"

"Thanks a bunch for what you're doing for me. Really. Goodnight."

"What does that mean? Your stomach sore a lot?"

"No. Yes. Maybe?"

Claire stared at him for a moment, "that's like a yes if I've ever seen one. I'm contacting Rebel tomorrow morning to see if he can come up with anything," she moved to sit a bowl of warm water next to his bed.

"What...what on earth are you doing??" Sylar asked startled as the short woman was climbing onto his bed.

"I haven't slept all night. And just because I'm watching you, it doesn't mean I shouldn't catch some Z's.," she ascertained while settling herself a mere inch from him on the king sized bed so that she could still keep her palm rubbing his belly at least till she fell asleep. "Night."

He froze up a little. It meant it was him who would not get any rest that night. With her hand so securely on his stomach, he could not let the act drop for a moment, not even when she was fast asleep. She might feel the change. Keeping an ability constantly up for such a long time was certainly a challenge, but it should all pay off in the end. He moved an arm as if bye chance. It touched her hair this way, they almost looked like he had her in his arms. Feeling her warm breath on his side and inhaling her scent, Sylar was the happiest man on earth.

Tbc


	14. Wither

Chapter 14: Wither

The next morning was difficult. First, Sylar had to mentally kick himself at least half a dozen times not to fall asleep, then watch Claire's withdrawal when she woke up, disgusted that she had snuggled up to the warm body by her in her sleep. After that had to deprive himself of eating the offered breakfast for effect when he was very hungry already. No matter, if he has any hunger pains, at least he doesn't have to fake it all.

But the greatest blow came went Claire popped back into the room to announce that she had contacted Rebel and the leader of the resitance was going to send Rachel over with a vial for blood that they would use to look for residual inhibiting formula levels in his system.

Given that there would be absolutely none residual levels to be found as he was just hunky dory, letting them take a sample to see if the LAWR could find a way to help alleviate his symptoms did not seem like a very good idea. Surely Noah Bennett would've already doubted if he had any problems at all, but thankfully Claire was a lot more naïve and believing in a sense of good. But if he suddenly recovered, that would be suspicious for her as well, not to mention he would loose his greatest weapon in making the girl he obsessed over feel for him. Unless...

Sylar was not much interested in the medical field before as he was indestructible, nor did he spend much time reading up on the subject when he used to have his eidetic memory. But he did have his intuitive aptitude and his body, a working mechanism that could be understood, fixed, are alternatively, broken at will. While he could not have something in his blood that he hasn't been injected with for a long while, he could still produce abnormal bloodcount levels if he concentrated on his now fine tuned shifting abilities after he had figured out what exactly he had to do to achieve that. What was he simulating having? Long term side effects of a drug, the only drug that could affect him in this way as it was specially designed to do so. A sensitivity, a susceptibility reaction to it, in other words, something that his tormentors at the company were well aware of and documented as being true at that point. It resulted in a stomach inflammation that he could replicate in his blood test results now. All he had to do was raise his white blood cells count, adjust protein and platelet levels and add in some vitamin deficiencies for supposed impaired digestion. Of course there were other things that marked an autoimmune inflammation inside a human body. He couldn't name them all, but he could feel little particles swinging one way or another, adjusting themselves, following the lead he has given them by shifting what he could already figure out.

Maintaining that state was a grueling mind exercise, so he was quite happy when Claire had finally appeared and pricked him with the needle. He wasn't totally confident in having produced the effects he had desired though. He would've been a little uneasy if it was Mohinder who would've looked at his results, but he knew rebel was a child after all, brainiac or not, communicating with a diagnostic tool or not. As for the LAWR, they were more specialized in smuggling evolved humans away from danger, than anything else.

Claire disappearing for a while somewhat unnerved him, but she got back with a backpack full of anti-inflammatories by night time, suggesting he had managed to successfully trick them again. "You'd better take a whole pack at once," she advised. "We're not sure if it's gonna have any effect on you, but it might..." She then resorted to the method she knew worked and got her massaging cloth, "Rebel says you should be getting better very soon. There's no reason why not. We could take another sample in a few days' time, then we'll know for sure."

Sylar put a hand on hers, on his stomach, as she was slowly rubbing it, "I'm all right tonight. You should go have a proper sleep." In fact it was him, who needed that sleep, but could not, in her close presence.

Claire looked into his eyes sadly. Indeed, apart from some twinges, she could hardly feel anything bothering him. Why was she feeling guilty then? Because she took part in the systematical torture of two dozens of evolved humans perhaps? "I'm sorry..." She trailed off.

Having not had acquired mind reading, Sylar was not sure what she meant. "What should you be sorry for, Saint Claire?"

"Don't call me that. Sarcasm is not needed. You know as well as I know I'm not a saint. I've lived my life, closing my eyes not to see things I didn't wanna see, and I didn't need my memories wiped for it either! I wanted to have my perfect life I could never have and if it wasn't so, I choose to ignore what didn't fit to feel happy."

"We're all self absorbed. We're all sinners. Accept it. That's why we are called humans."

"I thought I was better than that."

"Oh, you're a megalomaniac too, aren't you? Better than everyone else, more superior? These are feelings that are inscripted in any of our brains, believe me. They all love being sinners because they are weak and surrender to the pleasure."

"Look, I merely wanted to say I was sorry for my family's involvement in you choosing the dark side."

"Well, guess what, people like me would be miserable in heaven."

"I'm also embarrassed for being associated with the exploitation of people with abilities."

"Not all sinners have to suffer for their sins. Not you, little Claire, stuck here as a prisoner just like me. Not with your truthful, soulful green eyes paving the way for all sinners to find redemption," he turned her hand over and held it in his, "if I wanted saving my soul, I'd turn to you. You are the special, unique person I'd always thought you'd be."

Claire rolled her eyes, "would you please leave that??" She pulled her hand out of his, "so you don't need me tonight?"

"I always need you, little Claire."

She sighed and looked out the window. As far as she could see, grassy planes. She was nineteen years old and not made for this. Immortal or not, she had dreams, achieving things from own effort, having fun, seeing the world and its miracles, having friends, meeting a guy, perhaps kids...here, she didn't have as much as a person to talk to, if we didn't count the serial killer, who was supposed to be her utmost enemy.

She didn't think this through with all its implications when she kidnapped Sylar, she simply wanted to do what was right. No matter how much she'd debate it in her mind, the state of affairs always stood as her selfishness wishing herself away from what was her prison as well against what was morally fair. She should give in to it then. It was nonsensical being annoyed with herself for having slipped closer in her sleep to the only man she could have for who knows how long. It's not that she intended becoming intimate with him, but avoiding him was of no use, what's more, counterproductive. This was reality and reality was that there were only the two of them in their world. She could not be out here all alone. Alone in her bed, alone in her every day routine, alone in her head.

She was thankful that Sylar was not exactly who she had thought he was, from what she could deduce from his life story. He was never really given a chance. Perhaps she could show him how it would look like if somebody really cared? She could start by asking one more thing from Rebel tomorrow. Maybe they could extend the magnetic field restricting Sylar to the house, as opposed to the small bedroom only. But before that, she will make sure he was comfortable and that she was there if he was sick at night.

Once more to Sylar's surprise, she wordlessly climbed onto the bed next to him. She changed the compress on his stomach again, then let go and tried to shape one of the pillows in a way she would find it comfy. "It has been a long day and I didn't sleep too much last night. Just wake me up if something's wrong." She wiggled into a comfortable position and closed her eyes to show her intentions.

Her dark companion frowned, undecided. Was he safe to sleep now too? What if she checked on him at night and found that he was completely fine? Would that be acceptable? He did say after all he was feeling all right. Sylar turned to his side. He could see her better that way. Little Claire. She looked even smaller curled up like that. He flicked a finger and pulled the covers over her, only leaving her face out. The girl opened her eyes for a moment and smiled thankfully, a bit too drowsy to engage in any other kind of communication. Smiling! At him! Those shapely, arched lips felt so inviting, but he knew they really weren't inviting him, not yet. He imagined her tongue battling with his and not with words this time, her paradoxically soft, indestructible skin under his fingers, her full, modeled breasts pushing against his chest...

His cock responded nicely to the mental image, pressing insistently up against the fabric of his pants, stiffening and enlarging. Sylar grimaced, resisting the urge to start to stroke himself. Oh, no, he was a bit off course here. He was supposed to be unwell, not masturbating next to her! He had to clear his mind of her, replace it with something neutral, negative even. If only his penis would comply and behave the way he wanted it, like the rest of his body usually did.

He pictured the inside of a watch, balance wheels and springs, lever escapements and pallets. And by the time he mentally restored a historic and rare Roskopf, his libido was under control. Allowing himself to venture out his own head, he listened to her breathing, that became regular and hypnotizing by now. Hopefully monotone enough not to arouse him again.

Sylar attempted a look at Claire again. Some of her blond hair fell across her face. He could have telekinetically moved it out the way, it would have been less likely to wake her, but he felt like he had to touch her. His fingertips reached out and he softly brushed her hair back. The gentle movement set him into a different state of mind, he had no longer wanted to claim her senselessly. Sleeping peacefully she looked like an angel with golden hair, pure and true to herself, shining bright in his darkness.

Despite his tiredness and his internal, sharp clock that could've told him, Sylar had no idea he had been watching her for over an hour now. It was one of the very rare times he had found peace.

Tbc


	15. Provender

Chapter 15: Provender

Hunger. Coming from deep inside, from every one of his pores. Echoing in his head, screaming for absolution, surging to burst out and envelop him. It was such a sudden pang that Sylar confusedly sat up on the couch in the living room he was allowed to come out to and spend his time recuperating after Rebel had changed the magnetic field's radius to wall the house. He looked wildly around him, but he already knew what had happened.

A few moments ago, he heard voices from outside. It was no surprise, he was told Rachel was coming for another sample of his blood that day and he had been getting ready as well all morning, concentrating on recreating the necessary chemical and physiological changes in his body to delude them, like he did before. What he didn't expect was her coming into the house, stepping into the living room, approaching his livings space. Strolling up to him as if nothing would be amiss, as if she didn't possess the compelling ability of teleportation. Hunger. Control. Hunger. Concentrate. Hunger. Focus. Crave...but he had not had much chance to pick up abilities lately. If he had not been deprived of them, forced to keep away from evolved humans, he could be his own master without doubt. But there was this need to understand, master and use what he could find special and different.

Sylar clenched and unclenched his fists, not letting his arms, or a finger rise. Discipline. Feed. He couldn't get sidetracked, he had to concentrate on keeping his blood count as they were expecting it to be. He heard Claire's voice in a haze, just enough to keep him anchored till she drew his blood. Defy his hunger and deny it overflooding his senses.

The little blond stepped away, out his sight and there she was again, Rachel Mills, who had committed the greatest mistake of her life. The killer was consumed by his craving and once he didn't have to concentrate on inner shifting, the mask of restraint fell with a smoldering intensity that could not be controlled. He found it hard to think of anything else than the target. He stood, slowly advancing on the pray, already stuck to the wall by his making.

The girl had shouted and he flicked her away with his other hand, keeping her far enough not to be able to interfere. She wasn't his concern now. The distance between him and his feed lessened and his hunger grew, leaking out his eyes. He almost got his treat, an ability that would've meant freedom too. He could've been anywhere in the world in a few seconds.

Claire stopped struggling. She was no longer looking for a weapon to insert into the back of his head. It was futile the way he was keeping her away. She stood transfixed on the predator who looked like smelling its prey. Sylar had described it a few times in his life story he had given her. The hunger. A call that shivered through every part of his body. An integral part of his inborn ability, his nature, that he had embraced, but not liked being controlled by at the same time.

She stood, determined. She would use a different approach this time. "I believe in you, Sylar," she said unwavering. She should've told him before, but the present situation with somebody's life being at stake kinda made it a lot more urgent. "I believe that you can spit in the eye of the universe and everybody who says you are a senseless killer."

Sylar turned like a wheel to face her, with Rachel still pinned to the wall even though he was not looking at her. If Claire was trying to manipulate him, she would pay for it the moment after he got this new ability. She believed in him, she had said. No ringing in his ears? How could what she said not be a lie? "Say that again."

"I know you could get through the craving, you can make it if you focus on me, on my voice. Don't let it control you, you're more important than that."

He slowly shook his head a little. It was very sweet of Claire to naively offer him encouragement. Well, of course he could control it it he really wanted to, if there was a reason to. His hunger for love and understanding was much greater than his innate ability's hold on him. "You believe in me how?"

"I believe you can be whoever you want to be and I'm not meaning assuming looks. I know you can love me, as you said."

Sylar waited, frozen in place. He waited, but nothing happened. Rachel slowly slid to the floor behind him, Claire was breathing heavily due to the heat of the situation and nervously blinked behind him. There were no chimes, no ringing, no dizzying thud resonating in his head. No lies. Claire would not be stupid enough to lie to him in such a position, but the extent of her trust was a discovery. It was exhilarating to know she might even love him one day and it gave him a sensation of tranquillity at the same time. He had his purpose in life, and although he wasn't sure exactly what it was, he knew it had to do with Claire. It was his destiny.

His almost victim forgotten to the extent the ex agent could teleport to safety, Sylar dropped into a nearby armchair and closed his eyes. He counted backwards slowly from ten to make the hunger die away. He got down to three when he became aware of a warm, comforting hand rubbing one of his knees and thighs. He opened his eyes to see Claire kneeling in front of him, looking at him with concern and compassion.

Sylar reciprocated the gaze, his eyes brimmed with regret, pain and desire, all at once and at that moment, Claire knew that she had won. Not just in that instance, not just that day, but she had seen his real, soulful eyes wanting nothing more, than fit in, those that told her that all he needed was her anchor.

Seconds later, their lips were joined in a desperate attempt to find that only other person in the world who could understand. Their hands were drifting, becoming more and more eager, inhibitions lost in an intense display of need that left them breathless in anticipation.

It was time.

Tbc


	16. Bounds

Chapter 16: Bounds

With her muscles tensed, Claire struggled to balance on the thin edge of desire for a moment, some warning signs flagging up in her head despite herself. Soon however, she got distracted by the familiar feel of fabric brushing over her skin and she realized that Sylar was undressing her with his telekinetic mind.

"Yes, I'd love you, with all I've got," he started before she could oppose.

"Show me how you love me..."

He smiled at her and met her lips in a tender kiss, wound his arms around her and lay her gently onto the floor. "I'll take care of you, little Claire." Keeping his gaze intense and locked with hers, his heart in his eyes, they explored the new feelings they had while his hands traveled over her desirable curves slowly, covering novel territory. The killer leaned over her, his body teasingly close to every part of her, but only his mouth neared her. He kissed under her chin first, then as he moved to her neck and breasts, his kisses slowly became intermingled with licks.

The grooves on his tongue traveled down her unexpectedly sensitive nipples. While her skin was immune to injury, they were not unsusceptible to the beguiling circles Sylar drew on it with his moist lick. The treatment made her feel coquettish, sexy and good, with waves of pleasure threatening to erupt and she didn't understand how the Arctic could feel so hot. No other thoughts seemed relevant in the breathlessness of the moment as teeth pulled hard on her nipples, his hands becoming unruly on her hips and thighs, claiming, rather than worshiping, not able to keep still till his fingers found her wetness and slipped through her opening to bend inside her.

His breath caught in his throat, Sylar took a rest to look at her, but without stopping to try to please her, find her individual pleasure spot. The way the ever present orange light coming from the low lying sun outlined her features, she struck him as absolutely beauteous.

Claire squeezed her legs together, welcoming the intruder. If she would've been able to vocalize at that point, her muteness caused by the sensation overload, she would have told him that he overshot the mark a little and that he didn't need to look for her g spot. The small electric currents his fingers emitted to stimulate her were just fine, thank you very much, whichever area of her snatch he used them upon. She did notice however, that his hand was shaking and that did not seem intentional. But as the movement only seemed to add to her pleasure, she could not whisper any more than, "more..."

The evidence of his arousal clearly pressed against her thighs and the feel of his steel shaft roused the need in her to have him inside her. Contrary to what she had been told, to wait and be served, she reached her arms out to tug his closer, grabbing his by now doubled erection to press onto her mounds. Once he was in reach, she wanted to keep him there, so she folded her arms around his back tightly and clutched his shoulders, her fingers scratching and burying themselvesdeep into his skin to hold him in place while she parted her thighs.

Not wanting to deny her of her wish any longer, Sylar entered her in one sure motion, then paused, savoring how she felt with her warm and inviting core closing around his cock. He was prisoner of her hot cunt and did not mind it one bit. She was bound to him, her eyes locked with the mirrors of his dark and beautiful soul. They were intensely glinting, hardly blinking, nor closing and as a result, for once, her body conveyed her to feel and she was alive, more than her immortality would ever make her.

Driving back the darkness to be able to become one with his Claire, Sylar listened to her racing heartbeat to find his rhythm using his special hearing. With his abilities, he could be so much better in bed than Gabriel would have ever dreamed of. Taming the arousal that had been eating at her for days, he thrust into her hard, as if he would have wanted to make up for all the lost time she had been shunning him.

Not having experienced anything like it before, Claire gave out an overwhelmed cry as she exploded at his arduous movements, legs shaking, the walls of her slit convulsing moistly around him. Losing rhythm, he pushed into her wildly, not really aware of when exactly did his hot seed fill her. He leaned on one hand, groaning and panting, exhausted by the effort, but still feeling as if he could not get enough of her. How was it you could still get so out of breath when immortal?

He buried his head into her neck, holding her without coming out of her in the most intimate way known, not wishing to end what felt like the present of a perfect union, at least for the moment. And it was this feeling that gave him the ultimate fulfillment. Being special or not, broken or not, it didn't seem to count, as they were one. It was so that it happened that engulfed in the simple bliss, he didn't pay attention to his surroundings, nor his abilities.

"I knew you could love me," Claire found her voice, "but I didn't know you were this good in bed," she kissed him appreciatively. Sylar laughed and teasingly bit into her earlobe. He wasn't going to tell her he had read up on the subject when he possessed the waitress' ability as Gabriel was rather hazy on the topic.

A mere few feet away from them in the living room, Noah Bennett dropped his gun, drawing attention on himself for the first time since he had stepped in a couple of minutes prior. He had had nightmares about what could have happened to his daughter if Sylar and Claire's disappearance from the hospital meant he had kidnapped her, and he even contemplated the possibility of his girl taking the law in her own hands while tracking them down. He had seen the killer post coital with Elle before, but this...but this was...the unthinkable!

Tbc


	17. Nurture

Chapter 17: Nurture

"Dad!!?!" Claire shrieked, trying to push Sylar off herself, "what are you doing here!"

"Trying to protect you," Noah narrowed his eyes, having regained his composure somewhat. He took his horn rimmed glasses off to polish them, still not believing his eyes, his hazy vision avoiding the embarrassing naked forms in front of him and giving them enough time to grab the necessary clothing items. Thankfully without his spectacles he won't be able to see much. "I have no idea what is going on here, Claire, but at this moment it doesn't really matter. I have twenty four agents out there waiting on my prompt to come in, none of whom I'd like to witness my daughter being indecent, nor in a compromised position. I'd like you to come over here next to me and let me do my job."

The lovers paused, silent for a moment, then exchanged a brief look. Sylar decided it was best to retreat onto the couch behind Claire and assume the vulnerable persona the young woman was hell bent on providing justice for. This way, he could concentrate on using his special hearing too, finding out exactly what all the two dozen agents outside were up to and what they possessed as forms of weapon.

Claire shook her head sadly, "it has been a long time ago that you could control me, remember, Dad? Anyways, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions. And that is holding no affiliation with an association that approves the torture of prisoners."

"How about, hi Dad, it's nice to see you, how have you been?"

"It is nice to see you," Claire said quietly, "how's Lyle? And mum?"

"Spending every night worrying about you, wondering if you were dead, if Sylar's gonna go get them too. And they don't even let me be with them to protect them."

Claire raised her eyebrows, "not as if you would *be* there, if you were allowed to be there if you know what I mean..."

"It's been hell without you there, Claire bear. You know I'd and I'll do everything I need to do to protect my family. I found out about these dangerous abilities some people have thirty years ago and ever since then I worked on keeping everyone safe, not just my own family. Sylar belongs to a cell and you know that."

"You have not considered any of those locked up prisoners human beings, have you?"

"You can't trust them."

"What about me, dad? Am I human to you?"

"You are my daughter."

"Your daughter, but not human, right?" She was fishing in her pocket for her cell phone.

"Don't make this a game, Claire. I love you. I'll always be there for you, no matter what, but sometimes we have to do bad things in the benefit of a greater good."

"And how is that any better than killing on the basis of the evolutionary principle of survival of the fittest?" She turned away from her father. The rift between them was there as it was expected, and she could stop arguing with him for the same reason it never occurred to her to tell her father when she was planing on rescuing the killer from the hands of the company. He would have never approved, understood, or agreed to disagree even. "Sylar. How are you feeling? Do you think we can take the whole SWAT team on?" She asked her lover conversationally, trying to hide the fact that she was in the middle of punching in a message on her phone inside her pocket that she would send to Rebel. She could not see the letters, nor the address book, but she was hoping that the mambo jumbo that she was probably writing would not just get to the brains of the rebellion movement, but he could also make sense of it.

"Oh, sure, bring it on, Noah," Sylar also replied lightheartedly and took Claire's free hand to stand by her. His thumb pressed into her palm and she felt it tickling her skin. By the shape and manner of the disturbance, he was writing something on her hand using his imprinting ability.

Her father looked at them with a great amount of desperation. "You haven't even thought about safe sex!" He retrieved his gun and raised his walkie talkie to signal the waiting team outside.

It was Sylar's turn to look down at his now trousered middle somewhat discomfited. Not as if he had anything to be embarrassed about as far as his intimate parts were concerned, but just how much did the old SOB see? However, his embarrassment didn't stop him from retorting back, "the birds and bees talk's a little overdue, don't you think?"

Claire was too busy reading his message on her palm to answer. "Have to make it to Rebel and co. upstairs," it read.

Noah disregarded him. "Claire bear. Are you with me?" His face was hoping.

"I wish, dad..." She ambled backwards, towards the stairs, like Sylar. She did not like having to confront her father in this manner, but he gave her no choice.

Knowing that they were coming was a great advantage on their side. Soldiers jumped in from all sides, the windows, the door, from the top and there were gun barrels peeking out at foot level. Many of the attackers however, arrived without their weapons, twisted out their hands by an invisible, telekinetic force before they could be of any use.

Claire found herself back to back with her former captive and with rifles in both her hands, freshly flown there by the same force. She put them to use without delay, doubling up Sylar's electric shocks with her defensive shots. Withal, some projectiles hit both of them before the killer could direct his attention towards stopping the bullets, or whatever the little stings that reached her body were. She had no time checking what she was shot with either as her lover cleared out the way and they were meant to be heading to the previously agreed location in the house.

The serial killer contemplated using his sonic blast and momentarily incapacitate everyone, but seemingly four machine guns joined in from upstairs, noticeably on their side. Sylar wasn't even sure they needed reinforcements. He had one tranq dart in his side and one anti formula shot in his leg. Still, a lot less than it would incapacitate him. He was in his element, enjoying a little action and demonstrating how he could be in control to all involved. After weeks of doing nothing and pretending to be ill, it was a well earned breather. Tones of pure joy flashed in his eyes that Claire had no chance to note. She was flying through the air herself, pulled on by invisible strings and behind the ally lines of LAWR to safety, the group of people brought back by Rachel Mills after her ordeal in fear that Sylar was out of control and Claire could be in danger. Ironically, they arrived to the killer's help against their utmost, common enemy, the company.

Sylar joined them, seconds later, covered in blood that nobody doubted wasn't his. Surrounded by her resistance member mates and the two lovers close by, so that they could all touch each other, Rachel concentrated to teleport the most number of people away she ever did at the same time.

Agents left behind fired into the empty space the vanishing group left, then at stared their weapons in amazement. Everything from knives to the last taser had been turned into gold out of all things, as Sylar's last joke before he reappeared at Ellen's headquarters along with the rest of the distance travelers.

Tbc


	18. Ascendence

Chapter 18: Ascendance

Claire turned the fire on and stayed in front of it to heat up. Pity her rapid cellular regeneration did not stop her from feeling cold. Or perhaps they should have chosen another country as their hide out. Ireland was not as icy as Alaska had been, but it was pretty far from her well missed sunny Texas. But needs must. She had chosen their destination as she had always wanted to see the country ever since she had found out about her biological mother's heritage and once they flown there they decided not to leave for a while in case someone noticed them on some airport security camera. It was not like they could use Rachel's teleportation methods any longer, not after Sylar having tried to take that ability away from the super soldier. Claire didn't know how many evolved humans could be in their close proximity in Dublin, but Ireland was as good of a place as any to keep him away from those who fueled his hunger. The further away from the people he knew, including the LAWR, the better it must be.

The young blond had been surprised that the leader of the resistance turned out to be a teenager, but she did like Micah's approach to the matter of the serial killer. He would give Sylar every chance as long as he was no threat and Claire just had to make sure it stayed that way.

The naked Bennett girl sighed and climbed back into bed next to her lover. She kissed his shoulder while lowering herself and lay an arm over him and round his stomach. All that ever bothered him these days was a rare little wave of nausea by what he was saying, but holding her palm on his abdomen was a pleasurable habit she had, for both of them, dating back to the times he wasn't well. He shifted a little and their bodies coalesced without much effort.

Claire relaxed into his embrace, heaviness settling into her limbs. She was in such a cosy place. Distracted, she started to draw random, ticklish designs on his skin with her fingers, disturbing the little, sensitive hairs a bit under his white belly button.

Sylar fidgeted and opened his eyes, beginning to get turned on once more, but his voice was still sleepy. "Looking for another round, little Claire?"

She turned her head to gaze up at him, "just having fun," she teased, "but I must admit, I was thinking of the ways we could have more fun. You know, with both of us able to regenerate..."

"You don't want me to hurt you." Sylar stated. It wasn't a question. There was darkness inside Claire too, like everyone, a monster waiting to come out and play. And with him, she could have it so without consequences. "What do you have in mind?"

She licked her lips slowly before answering, "every bad boy needs some spanking..." Her string of words was a question because she was not sure she wanted to go there. Ever since she had known him, she wanted to kill him, hurt him, punish him for what he did to her and her family, but when she had the chance she rushed to his help instead, driven by some mighty moral righteousness that placed her above all the others in her mind. Most of the time she pushed the past out of her mind. She did what was necessary and what she felt was ethical. Yet sometimes, there was this thought nagging at the back of her mind that he needed to know that for some things she didn't forgive him, no matter how she understood his hunger and his reasons behind his actions now.

"I'd let you do anything you want to me," her lover grinned salaciously, "break my every bone, milk me till I pass out, carve your favorite picture out my ass, if that's what gets you off, baby."

"Just spanking, Sylar," Claire looked at him very seriously, disapproving of his smile regarding the matter.

"So you gonna make me beg for it?" Arousal crept into his voice.

"You're in the mood, aren't you?" The blond gave a little head shake, resting her hand on his side.

"I'm so helpless around you, you know. You make me so...auch!" His eyes widened. It had somewhat surprised him when her caressing palm slapped a cheek of his bottoms hard. Then an indulgent grin spread across his face and he squatted up, his back side unguarded on purpose. With little electric outbursts, he snapped a bit of the telephone wire off and flew it into her hands, providing her with a whip.

Claire contemplated the instrument she was holding. Sylar could have been accused of many things insane, but masochism was not one of them. It didn't fit, unless he wanted her to punish him for some other reason. Did he think she had to realize there was a monster inside her as well when she was letting her anger run free?

"When I have had enough, I won't hesitate to fight back. I'm a big boy," he encouraged, but he had no intentions to stop her. If they were to have a lasting bond that meant something for Claire as well, she will have to have the chance to settle the score with him. There was so much more at stake here than sexual pleasure. He gazed at her naked form nevertheless, her pure, innocent soul obviously needed some encouragement to unleash her demons. "I wanna see you sweat it babe. You're so beautiful when you're so full of life your eyes change color." To a darker shade, naturally, he added to himself.

The whip did come down on his hindquarters, but it felt almost like soft. "Thank you, Mistress, could I have some more?"

Claire tried harder this time, producing a cracking noise with her instrument as it flew though the air. The cord slapped down his back, cut some skin, sending little droplets of his blood in several directions.

The killer clenched his teeth, muffling a moan, but rather oddly, the experience turned him on, more than anything else. It seemed like he loved it when she was in control, just as much as being in control himself.

Claire pulled her arm back, a wave of excitement animating her movements. Did Sylar really let her do this? Surely he was trusting her with his life, but this was one more step forward. She pulled her arm back and put all her strength into the next one. She was not counting her lashes, she let her body dictate the beat. With erect nipples, a blanked mind and a wet pussy, she marveled at the perfect male body in front of her, writhing and growling in distress and pain for a moment, healing the next till she left no time interval between her strikes for the wounds to heal over. He was her equal, she could only do this to him only and get away with it. The possibilities were endless.

The cord merely froze for a second when she realized she had lost it and how much she was enjoying hurting him. It was not what stopped her, nor his by now unrestrained howling. Without drugs in his system, he would heal all right. Several lashes later, after perhaps about fifty in total, she neared herself to his crumpled form, shaking not by the effort, but by her need to be fucked by him, bring those well stirred up sensations in her to an end.

His eyes were clouded and there was blood, dried on or flowing, on every part of his body. But he could not let her feel guilty in any way. His voice was exhausted, "did you like the power, little Claire? Having the advantage over someone for once? Like an active ability that allowed you more than just defending yourself?" He ignored the settling pain and reached out as if to take her hand.

The next moment, she was stuck to the wall, with her blood dripping down this time.

Tbc


	19. Intruder

Chapter 19: Intruder

Claire deduced she must have blacked out for a while as she had no recollection of how she ended up on a completely clean and not blood stained bed and in her lover's arms like before as if nothing would have happened, as if she didn't give him one of those penalisation rounds she very much intended to replicate over and over again till she was satisfied with the results and as if the killer did not take charge when she least expected it. Without moving yet, she contemplated for a brief second if she had dreamed it all, but it was best not to forget who she was dealing with here. No matter how long he had disguised himself in sheep's clothing, Sylar was a wolf.

She pushed herself off him and stood back, conceiling her dread as much as she could, "what have you done to me?" She questioned, her hand forming a fist. Tears were starting to form in her eyes, but it was not for the fear of her own safety. She would have given so much to know he was not evil, that he had not done something unspeakable to her while she was blacked out. Sylar did not have the ability to erase minds, so why did she feel like her memory was tampered with then? She placed a hand on her forehead mechanically, checking. "If you're playing some sinister game, you'd better just kill me now and save us both all the heartache and misery."

"Kill? That would be needlessly wasteful when you're so lovely, don't you think? Calm down, please."

"Why do I feel like some sort of puppet here? The last thing I remember is you turning on me."

Sylar smiled at her with an expression that looked genuine, "nothing you wouldn't want. It's a direct result of what you have done."

"I might have went a bit over the top with the slashing, I admit, but I certainly did not violate your memories of the event."

"It's not what I mean. It's the feelings I have for you. Every bit of me craves you. It's like hunger turning into something that only you can satisfy. Your touch, so pure and beautiful, even when you think you're punishing. I feel like I have to reciprocate all you've given me with what I can. And for the first time, I truly feel special to have been able to have given you a gift," he told her and stalked closer.

The tone of his voice got her attention. It was not what she was expecting and she let him lean over and kiss her, gently and unthreateningly that still left her breathless and more dazed than before when he stepped back.

"I acknowledge that it was much harder than I thought, but I have done it," he declared, his voice unpretentious, but full of jubilation.

"What have you done?" Claire repeated the question, more confused than earlier.

"Would you like to turn up the fire from here? Concentrate on the switch. Raise you hand to click it."

"What?" She looked at him, puzzled.

"Just do it, Claire."

The blond pursed her lips and flicked her hand dismissively. She hated it when people took a while to get to the point. She looked at him, then back again at the fire after having seen something happen from the corner of her eyes. The heater was emanating more warmth, the dial at the maximum number four.

"Try moving something else. Don't tell me what it is," Sylar encouraged.

"I got the brush!" Claire exclaimed, staring at the object in her hand that she called through the space with her finger from the table. Stunned beyond belief, she opened some drawers and flew a pair of knickers over for herself. "My god, what does this mean?" She wondered with a devilish grin on her lips while switching appliances on and off, opening and shutting wardrobes and making things fly off their places.

"I know how things work. Abilities, and their appropriate location and set up in the cortex. There's no reason why I would not be able to install any into another human brain. Of course, not many would survive such a procedure, so this was my first try."

"You opened by skull again?" Claire narrowed her eyes at him.

"I did not take away your memories, I simply allowed you to slip into unconsciousness cause I didn't think you'd appreciate the experience."

"The same reason you cleaned up the blood?" Claire continued her endeavor with her new power, lifting heavier and heavier things. She seemed rather engulfed by the experience, so he risked to continue.

"It's what you wanted isn't it? I could give you every power I possess if you so wish. Except the electricity. Too private that one, sorry." Sylar sat back down on the bed and watched as the apples bounced like balls and a glass of whiskey landed in his hand. He laughed. It seemed it'll be a while till the girl was finished with playing around and was ready to talk. Something told him though she was not going to be angry much.

Tbc


	20. Fundamental Measure

Chapter 20: Fundamental Measure

Noah Bennett entered the establishment of an indoor kids' play area in Toronto, not sure what to think of the place. It was rather crowded and noisy and he was a bit puzzled as to why Claire would choose such a place to meet him when this would be the first time they have talked in five years, apart from it being as public as public can be and that there was no chance the SWATs could be brought into such an area. Personally he could hardly think in the noise of screaming children and found the chocolate or in fact god knows what covered seat cushions quite repulsive.

He was searching the tables for Claire and then all his thoughts came to a total standstill. Fidling with unwrapping a straw to put it into a glass of juice, there was his daughter looking like as if no time would have passed since he had last seen her, as he would expect it with her ability of course. The surprise was not her though, no matter how glad he was when he had received her message to meet her.

The surprise was the little boy next to her. "Can I go play now, mummy?"

"Go, but stay where I can see you. Don't disappear out of sight, Noah!" Claire smiled, first at her son, running away at a speed and then at her father. She slowly stood up with an apologetic smile and embraced her old man. "I just wanted you to be able to see my son, dad. You can understand how this is a private matter and that for his safety it's absolutely imperative nobody else finds out about him? You do realize?"

"Of course I do," Noah loosened the hug, just so they could sit down and he could keep a homely hand on her shoulders like before, fueling the welcomed illusion in himself that no major rift happened between them. He did identify himself with what she was doing, he would go great lengths to protect his children. That was why he didn't need to be told not to tag any company agents along, only now it would be about the security of his grandson as well, along with his daughter's.

She let him watch her son climbing the stairs to the shoot and coming down over and over again for a little, have her father come round to the idea of his extended family. The company man found the sight of the smiling, active and otherwise very ordinary brown little boy rather captivating. That and the proud looks of the mother, had helped him make up his mind. Not that it was much of a thought process as opposed to being a matter of the heart, but his suspicion that the father could have very well been Sylar did not count anymore. All that mattered was that Noah was Claire's child. "Don't worry, Claire," he nodded towards her, "you'd be surprised what a grandfather would do for his grandson," he smiled at her benevolently and thankful that she had let him take part of their lives at least this much. "He's adorable, Claire." Unless..."Does he have abilities?"

She frowned, not liking her father even mentioning the subject, but she could understand why he had asked and was expecting the question. "No, not yet, we don't know what it's gonna be...look, dad, this is a one time occasion. It's too dangerous for us, I don't have to explain. We've living an entirely unextraordinary life, that is going to benefit Noah as well. Sylar doesn't know I called you."

"And that's wise?" Noah caught upon the chance to bounce on the topic. He leaned closer to her and talked more quietly, "he'd be a permanent resident of level 5 if it wasn't for you. He was there for a reason. Nobody's put to level five if they don't belong there. What kinda picture is he selling you and what game is he playing?"

Claire pulled back and shook a finger at him, without raising her hand off the table, "he has not killed anyone since our son was born and it hasn't been easy for him. I won't say people change. Perhaps not as much as one would like. But circumstances certainly change, people's goals and what they find it's worth living for, does change."

"Some things just aren't possible, no matter how much we'd like them to be. You can still come home, Claire-bear, your mother would so love to see little Noah."

"I'm not so in favor of condescending, you know that, dad."

"Have you forgotten what he has done to you and those you loved?"

"No, dad, and he hasn't forgotten it either. In fact, I wanted to tell you about this. Elle Bishop lives and we're on the way of bringing Meredith back into life. Remember how he'd taken the ability to control the dead? He had spent years trying to perfect it. And one day, he brought her back to life and I gave her my blood. She was a bit shellshocked at first, but then she's happily accepted her second chance. That was two months ago and the next person will be my biological mother. We will continue with this, there were other victims who did not deserve their fate. There's the darkness and there's the light, in every one of us."

Noah shook his head, "I can't believe it."

"Meredith will visit you once it's done, I promise. With Elle, we wanted to make sure she stayed hidden. But now you have to go. My husband will be here to pick me up any minute."

"Your husb...??!?"

"Go, dad, go. I love you. Don't try to find us."

"Just tell me you'll let me know about yourself and your Noah."

Claire thought about it a little, "I'll send a Christmas card. Tell mom I love her."

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	21. Watercourse

Chapter 21: Watercourse

Sylar ran down the street as fast as he could, cursing himself he had never taken that teleporting ability, nor something that would have made his rush back home a little faster. He didn't bother with waiting for the elevator, there were only the stairs to take now and he was home, whatever situation awaited him there. Little Noah's father had completely freaked out when he got Claire's call that their son disappeared and she could not find him anywhere.

First first reaction was dread, then anger started to build in him. It had only been a week since he had seen Noah Bennett departing from the play area his son was at and he didn't quite reconcile with Claire on the issue of having talked to her father and most of all, not having been discussed it with him previously. The meeting could've perhaps been better organized then and he would not have to fear being hunted down by Bennett or the company, same thing, family and all.

But he had no time for feelings right now, main importance was to get up into their rented apartment, pick up the pieces and clues and find his little boy before it was too late. Not caring whether it was a trap or not, he burst into the hall and came to a halt. There was giggling coming from the kitchen, no different than other times when he came home from work.

With bated breath, he slowly walked round and peeked into the kitchen to find Noah standing up tall and beaming on one of the stools where Claire had put him so she could cuddle him up. She was squeezing him tight.

"Daddy's here!" Rejoiced the child.

"Oh, so sorry Sylar," Claire turned, not letting go of Noah with one hand, "it did occur to me to call you back and tell you it's not necessary you come back, but then I thought you might like to see this! Noah has found his ability, Sylar! We were actually playing hide and seek, but I couldn't believe he could actually hide that good, that's why I feared he was missing. Noah eventually realized I was upset, or I dunno maybe he got bored hiding and showed him to me. Do your trick again, Noah!"

The boy didn't have to be told twice. The edges of his body shimmered merely for a millisecond and then he did not seem to be there anymore. Using his superhearing, Sylar however could still pick up the child's quickened breathing as he jumped off the stool and reappeared next to him after a short period of being invisible.

"He can do it a lot longer and a lot better," Claire assured him.

"Well done, Noah," Sylar managed half a smile and ruffled through the boy's hair, "I'm proud of you, son, you mastered that one very quickly and well. But there are some very important ground rules about using your ability, understand, little champ," he turned serious, "cause otherwise we could end up in trouble. Did you explain it to him yet, Claire?"

She shook her head, beaconed the child over and sat him on her lap. It will be taken care of just like they had previously discussed what they will have to do when Noah developed an ability. Sylar let out a shaky breath. He had hoped that Noah would have a power that was similar to theirs, perhaps something insignificant, or an ability like one he himself already possessed. But invisibility, it was utile, it was compelling, suitable and worthy, desirable, delectable even, sought-after and to be taken..Sylar swallowed hard, trying to will the haze away from his knowledge focused, stricken mind. That crippling need inside him, it was one ability he would never understand, his own. It was no coincidence he had mostly kept to his family only these last few years, avoided meeting new people or even did anything much with his own abilities. Even though the hunger still reared its ugly head now and again, especially if there was some fresh ability somebody had close by, he had learned to curb his craving. All he had to do was think about his wondrous wife and his beloved son. What is he going to do now?

Claire looked over at him. She told Noah everything that she could think of necessary when explaining the state of play about abilities for a four year old and looked for confirmation and perhaps some input at her husband. Besides, Noah usually listened to him more than he listened to her. She had to rethink addressing him this time. Sylar had sank down to a chair and started at the middle of the empty table, supporting himself on it. It didn't stop him shaking though, his eyes a shade of dark she had not seen for a number of years now. "Noah," she said quickly, "you know where the chess set is you're not usually allowed to touch? You can have a shot at it." She would've normally laughed at his happy squeal, but the situation was too serious.

She had recognized the signs, she knew what was eating at the once killer. She had not doubted him, his son was at the center of his world, he would have never harmed him in any way, but she needed Noah out the way for a little while so she could remind him of that as well. But he didn't wait for her to talk.

Sylar was hyperventilating and was extremely pale as he stood, "I need to go Claire." He willed some control over himself and started towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Claire jumped concerned, standing in his stumbling way, even though she knew she could not stop him if he really wanted to leave. He was far more stronger, and not just abilities wise.

"Texas," Sylar mumbled.

"What on earth would you want in Texas?" Claire shrieked alarmed.

"Pills, Claire. The company stores large amounts of Mohinder's inhibiting formula in pill form. I have to steal some," he looked back at her, his brokenhearted gaze boring into her soul, "I can not risk hurting my son."

tbc


	22. Evidence

Chapter 22: Evidence

After drawing about the fifteenth helicopter to try to entertain her son the way he wanted it that afternoon, Claire wandered over to the bedroom door, the same direction Noah's sad face turned sometimes. She was getting frustrated with Sylar. It wasn't the fact that there was no full pay salary coming into the bank account due to the watchmaker having declared himself on sick leave for two months in a row, she could turn something into gold and sell it if it was necessary any time. It wasn't even that she had to deal with keeping up the house and their son happy as much as possible all by herself. She was upset because Noah had missed his dad, he'd missed the endless hours of playing cards, building lego airports and being taught about planets and galaxies, and most of all, the little boy missed the hugs and bedtime stories his father used to make up for him.

Sylar had not just been avoiding them, spending most of his time in the bedroom, but he had been religiously taking those pills as well. Claire thought it was an overkill and had been thinking about taking them off him, but then again, even if there was only one percent chance that Sylar was right and she was wrong, that he needed them to control his hunger, it was too much of a risk to take. Especially now that he had watched him fall to pieces, lose his confidence, his charm, his grip on life. Her husband was confused at best, he was not sure of what to expect of himself. The drugs wore off in a few days every time and he had claimed that the hunger was returning, but all Claire could see was his panic attack over it.

He looked up at her briefly as she stood there, their eyes had fleetingly met. His were despondent, hers were hopeful. Maybe today he didn't feel that bad? Then he turned back towards the wall, cradling himself up in pain. Claire closed her eyes for a moment. Why was he doing this to himself? That substance was the very same one she had once rescued him from and now he was using it at free will. She walked to the bathroom and picked up a face towel to wet it. It wasn't only to soothe his roiling stomach, those warm compresses with her hand massaging his midsection were a ritual to them. It was where their emotional connection came from, somewhere they could always go back to feel the same towards each other again.

She paused for a moment above the bed, then sighed, giving in. It was one thing she could not do and that was watching him suffer unjustly. He had not wished intuitive aptitude on himself and he was doing everything to suppress it, so how was it he was the one he had to take the fall for it as well? She arranged the wet cloth and pressed down to make him as comfortable as she could. She would stay till Noah called her and then come back to care for him later after she had put the little boy to bed.

In her mind, she weaved plans again. The moment reminded her of that turning point in the hospital when she saw him. She knew back then she had to do something that made sense for her, and the current situation was similar. They were running from the company, but now it was the company itself that could hold the answer, or more so, the makers of the inhibiting formula. Mohinder Suresh had not been giving much consideration to the side effects of his drug, in fact they were sort of encouraged. But Claire thought the doctor capable of making the same substance in pure form, without no nasty additions. Only question was how could she convince, force or make him develop it?

Tbc


	23. Association

Chapter 23: Association

Noah Bennett was sitting in an armchair in his living room, frowning. Surely he had said to Claire many times over that she could count on him, that he would do anything for her and his grandson. Not in his wildest dreams would he have thought that his daughter would actually cash in on his promise and expect him to honor her every demand after showing up in front of his door in the very early hours of the morning, obviously pregnant, carrying a sleeping Noah on her shoulder and with a dangerous serial killer in tow, doing nothing other, than throwing up violently on his porch into the flowerpots!

Resting his palm on his taser at the other side of his trousers inside his pocket, the company man would not take his eyes off the supposedly ailing criminal perched across his very own sofa, looking half asleep and hardly able to move a limb. He had been staring at his uninvited visitor for what was now hours, leaving the babysitting of and the playing with Noah Jr. to a very willing and delighted Sandra and Lyle instead. Noah still could not believe it, but Claire had asked her adoptive family to hide her son's existence and Sylar in their house as that would be the last place anybody would look for her father's arch enemy, while she went back to the where she once worked to allegedly talk to Mohinder. Noah had absolutely no idea what his daughter thought such a conversation would be good for, but he did say after all that Claire should come to him if she was in trouble. So for the moment, he did as he was asked, that is, until Sandra and Lyle came down the stairs.

"Problem, dad," Lyle announced.

"I think I might have spooked Noah," Sandra said pained, "I only wanted to cuddle him, but that must've been the wrong way to go about it when he wanted his mommy."

"He was fine when we played the dinosaurs and airplanes game," Lyle intercepted.

"It's understandable that he got scared," Sandra explained, "he wakes up in a strange house, with unknown people that claim to be his grandparents who love him. But at this moment in time I have no clues as to how to coax him to show himself to us. The doors and windows are shut, but I'm still worried he might do something dangerous while we can't see him."

"Did he turn invisible?" Noah rubbed his own knees nervously.

"Yes, yes!" Sandra threw her hands up in the air, "and I want you to stop staring at that unconscious individual and come and help us persuade Noah to let us know he is safe!"

The confounded grandfather stood up, undecided. Not as if he was good with toddlers or was certain Sylar was comatose. As if on cue, the killer turned on his back from his side and lazily opened his eyes to blink into his, right in his view, "in can hear Noah in the bathroom closet," he said quietly, "I don't think he would go against what he was taught to do and show himself to anyone if he feels there's something wrong. But tell him daddy's here downstairs. He doesn't know that does he?"

"You should go, Lyle," Sandra suggested, "he was more comfortable with you," she sat down waiting for developments while pressing her knuckles together nervously. As she saw it, it was their once chance to reconcile with Claire and have her back into their lives. They couldn't mess this up. The uncomfortable silence lifted when the air started to glint on a trajectory towards the couch, followed by quick footsteps as little Noah ran down to be taken into the arms of his father.

"I love you, daddy," the boy nuzzled in, then looked up at Sylar seriously, "are you all right today, daddy?"

"A bit better."

"Can I stay with you?"

"Yes, but remember the rules?"

The child nodded, "if there's trouble, don't show yourself to anyone, but mommy. Not even dad."

"That's right, Noah. And you still need to practice that shallow breathing, cause I can hear you from a mile this way." He cursed to himself. He hated that drug, but apparently the effects were starting to wear off again as he wasn't feeling that uncomfortable either.

"Draw me a kite," the boy disregarded his advice and looked at him expectantly.

Sylar rubbed his temples and sat up. Perhaps demanding from his son all the time that he practiced hiding from him was a little too harsh on the child. "Anybody's got a pad and a pen?"

It was the company man who fished in his pockets for the items and handed them over, rather dazzled by the little conversation and display of emotions between father and son where it seemed as if Sylar was trying to train the boy how to escape him. When he handed the notebook over, his eyes met his once partner's again, who was technically his son in law, and the killer took the opportunity to file another request. "I need my tablets. They are in my coat pocket. I'm sure, you'd be well delighted to hand them over?" He did feel vulnerable in the house, especially without his powers, but for Claire's sake, he was sure nobody would touch him.

The agent gave him a hard, but searching look and indeed, felt no mental obstacles that could have stopped him from honoring the request. Sylar felt the need to annoy his father in law a little further by asking him for a glass of water to drink down the pills with, but the spectacled man was distracted by having to answer a call coming on his mobile phone.

"You're needed here," Angela said without any to and fro, "we have contained Claire."

"I'm sure some terms can be negotiated to get..." Noah started. It was what he'd been doing for two decades now. Keep his daughter away from being regarded as an ordinary evolved human that were either treated like guinea pigs or numbers.

"I'm sure you don't understand, Noah," Angela snapped, "in fact you have not the faintest. Claire had displayed at least five abilities at the same time and she killed two soldiers using telekinesis. She says it was self defense. We have to find out how she'd acquired these abilities, what and how many, and what threat does she pose."

"Wait, wait!" Noah willed himself to footstep his surprise at what he was told, "don't do anything till I get there."

"Hurry," Angela ended the conversation monosyllabiccally. It didn't sound like a promise.

Noah faced the occupants of the room. His son and his wife of course could not hear what has been said at the other side of the line, they didn't even bother with as much as sending him disapproving looks at the news he was finding his work more important than his grandchild. Sylar however, was standing on shaky legs. He had tucked the drugs back into his pocket without taking any. He needed his strength and abilities back, fast.

Tbc


	24. Building Blocks

Chapter 24: Building Blocks

Noah Bennett killed the engine barely from a mile from the company's secure facility, but far enough not to be picked out by the cameras. No matter what abilities did Claire have or use, she did not belong behind bars. Unfortunately that meant that his current goal was identical to that of the killer's and that was to get her out of there as soon as possible. He glanced over to the passenger seat. Sylar, weirdly, looked a little more blench than he would have wanted him to be at this moment. When at his best, Noah would have been perfectly confident Sylar could take on the whole establishment and come out victorious, but today wasn't one of those days. "Are you set? Do you need any help?"

"That lift at the ready for us to escape in. Remain parking here. There's no need for them to know you were involved, just like you want it," Sylar clicked his door open and paused leaning on the frame for several seconds before straightening up.

Noah rolled his eyes. The way he was stopping and starting, it was doubtful the killer would be able to walk a mile, not to mention rescue Claire. But then he seemed to have picked up speed, was running and became concealed by the bushes.

The apprehensive father has set himself the time frame of half an hour. He shouldn't really start worrying before that. But it was a mere ten minutes before the explosions started, lighting up the sky in an unnatural, but very familiar blue light. He pulled off the curb and onto the green, trying to remain inconspicuous as emergency services rushed past him. Noah was too nervous to stay in his car though. Thankfully he had spotted them soon, two clumsy figures supporting each other as they ran, one recently doped so that she could be contained, the other barely out from under their self induced influence. He jumped to offer his arms to his daughter, relieving the weight on Sylar's shoulders, but otherwise majorly disregarding his existence or his need for a rest. In mad, forced animation, it was only after the fugitives were sitting in the back of the car and they were back on the highway without being chased that either of them said a word.

"Sylar, I've got it," Claire showed up some bits of paper with drawings of chemical elements blithely, "the composition of the inhibiting formula in pure form. I was right!! It was Mohinder's little twisted game to add elements that would make people ill."

"It was Angela's actually," Noah intercepted. The cat was out the bag anyway.

Claire gave him a miffed look, but didn't comment, "anyway, there's no reason we could not manufacture it ourselves without the side effects. I mean you do understand what those letters and lines all mean, don't you?"

"Well, I do have a mental image how the atoms should look like," Sylar granted, "it should be easy from there."

"Noah all right?" Claire asked, looking from one to the other.

"He wasn't too upset when I left," Sylar supplied, "cause I told him I'm going to get mommy."

"Thank you for doing this for us, dad," Claire squeezed Noah's shoulder from the back.

He pursed his lips. He had chosen her again and there will be some people who might not be all too happy about it. "What now, Claire bear?"

"We get Noah and go to the airport."

tbc


	25. Druthers

Chapter 25: Druthers

The short experience of less than twenty four hours that he had spent together with Claire and her family had largely perplexed Noah. He had seen a young woman who was ready to do anything for her family and cared a lot about her husband, if not loved him, a little boy who was content with both his parents and a man, who was doing everything he could to protect those close to him. But the Sylar he knew was incapable of love, or even if he would momentarily submit to it, he would screw up in a big way soon after.

For company man to be able to keep to this illusion of a perfect family of Claire's, he needed some hard evidence for. Or more so, he was meaning to provide some proof for his daughter that what she was doing was nonsensical and then he could warn her and perhaps save her some heartache . And for that, he needed a trip into the future that he was quite sure he could achieve by dialing a hero.

Noah did not give a year for Claire's little family idyll to last, but he had asked Hiro to transport him ten years into the future just in case. The Japanese put a hand on his shoulder and the next time he blinked they were standing in a shiny, metallic elevator where an automatic voice annoyingly repeated, "please press your destination...please press your destination..."

The company man looked at the buttons, eager to choose any level, at least that irritating sound would cease. His hand however, hesitated between the options. None of it made sense. Mars Transfer Point? Satellite Docking Station? Solar Observatory? "Where on earth are we?" Noah asked, not needing the answer. The small window behind him showed the planet, in fact he could see all of the globe turning slowly under him, and there were some cola sweetie wrappers floating as presumably space junk at the other side of the glass.

"No earth," Hiro winced and shrugged, using the little English he had learned from that one semester he studied it, "time no correct."

"Tell me about it," Noah was wavering whether to press the red Summon Rescue Ship switch or the one that said Base Level. "My daughter. Claire? Claire Bennett? Is she here?"

Hiro seemed thoughtful, then raised a finger in the air as if realizing something, then slowly moved the finger towards the buttons. Residential Planes was Level 3 and by the view from the window they soon neared it with sickening speed, yet their bodies did not register the movement. When the door opened, they did not need to step out to stand on a corridor with a lot of same looking doors while the elevator seemed to have disappeared from around them. But before they could start to worry, another automatic voice addressed them. "You are at the Orion Residential Plane. Please state your destination."

"We're looking for Claire Bennett," Noah tried to answer the machine.

There was a faint buzzing sound and the flicker of a light that scanned them quickly from top to bottom and next thing, once again they seemed to have been transported somewhere else, because now they stood in front of the a door on a similar looking corridor, that had no name plate and no individuality like other doors there. Noah count not detect no handle, no doorbell, no buttons and this time there was no voice urging them to answer either. He hesitantly held out a hand, hoping this was future Claire's apartment indeed and when he touched the doorway it turned as if it was a revolving one and they found themselves in a rather ordinary looking room that was in contrast more old style than anything else they have seen of this distant future so far, bar for the bath tub sitting in front of the large window with the view into space and the couch, that surprisingly looked more like shaped piles of compressed, living grass. And then there was Sylar, leisurely sitting in front of a three dimensional manifestation of a book with the title: The Homo Sapiens Hive Mind.

Turning the hologram of his reading material off, Sylar turned to see who his visitors were. His brow furrowed considerably, more in unconcealed amusement, other than anything else. His eyes opened wide and he took a breath in for talking, but it took him another few moment till he could utter some words, "eeeerhm....Jesse? Come here Jesse! Jesse!" He finally managed after leaning forward and peeking behind Noah where Hiro was trying to hide out of sight. Sylar frowned and stood up to meet a young teenager looking girl with dark hair, who stumbled into the room from down the stairs in a blinking, skimpy dress and a necktie.

"Honey, could you do the freeze?" Sylar addressed the girl again as Noah was getting himself together by being fazed out from all of this new experience. He only had a taser and this was decidedly stupid.

Jesse waved her hand in the air and Hiro and Noah found that they could not move, nor speak, but they could perceive everything that was going on.

"Who are these unearthly figures?" The youngster asked.

"They are from the twenty-twentyfirst century," Sylar explained, "that one in the back is the man who ever came the closest to killing me, and that one here is your ol' papa, Noah Bennett."

"Get out of here..." Jesse drawled, pacing round to take a good look, "this is wow! You gotta be kidding me! This is the guy Noah was named after?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with him?" Sylar asked, completely ignoring the time travellers.

"Just you know, I can not believe mom would answer to a hominid like that! So brrr...phlegmatical, you know?"

"Maybe you should let him speak first, don't you think?" Sylar laughed, "he is your grandfather after all." Jesse waved her hand in the air towards the company man and Noah felt his jaw unclench.

"Teenagers these days," Sylar addressed his once arch enemy for the first time, "Noah, this is Jestina, twentysecond child of Claire and me."

"But only their ninth girl!" Jestina chimed in, "and so very special," she winked at her da'.

"I must admit, I did not expect you to try to intervene after such a long time no see," gave Sylar.

Noah however, shook his head in disarray. It was hard to process it all, "twenty two children?"

Sylar nodded, patiently, "we would have had more, but nowadays they've got population control rules for every lifetime."

"Any...any chance I could talk to Claire? Is she happy?"

"Not in the flesh, you can't," future Sylar walked back to his console table, "she's on a foreign mission to the Zoldek, oh, that's an alien race, but I could call her for you." He pressed a few controls and in a few seconds a see through figure of Claire smiled at her husband.

Sylar raised his eyebrows in a meaningful manner and tilted his head towards the new comers. Claire's jaw dropped on turning and her figure walked out from the control table, solidifying a little, but obviously still a hanging 3 dimensional image.

"I have never imagined anything like this," Noah panted. His predictions were completely out the window. They were pulverized and mashed into nothingness and all he could think of was hugging all present.

The Well Over The Top Happy End.


End file.
